


that part was yours, but it might just be ours

by nikatsu



Series: Stories from #AngstCircle [1]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, So Nyuh Shi Dae | Girls' Generation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-14 16:17:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2198490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikatsu/pseuds/nikatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their story spans years and continents—but the important part is that they were happy, in love, together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tots in the Park [00's]

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted in [Livejournal](http://theangstcircle.livejournal.com/tag/monsterfic%3A%20this%20part%20was%20yours) and [Asianfanfics](http://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/807758).

It is February when Changmin begs his mom to bake him a chocolate cake for his 5th birthday.

"Please?" he whines, his mismatched eyes looking up at her pleadingly.

"Changmin-ah," she sighs. "I know how much you love chocolate cake, so why not buy a bigger and better and tastier cake from the grocery store? Mommy is kind of busy these days," she explains.

He pouts. He's dead set on making his own cake this time. After all, he reasons, after all his years of being alive (a whopping four-going-on-five), all he's eaten for his birthdays has been store-bought cake. It's about time he figure out what's exactly inside of it that makes it so yummy.

"I. Want. To. Make. Chocolate. Cake."

It's a staring contest that his mom can't stand to win. She breaks out into laughter, the kind that makes Changmin all warm and giddy inside, and he smiles, knowing that he's gotten his way. "Thank you, mommy!" He hugs her tightly, arms wrapping around her lower waist.

"Alright, let's go buy the ingredients then," she grins, patting him on the head.

And that's how Changmin ends up racing a shopping cart against no one in particular down an empty aisle in the grocery store. He treats the cart as a scooter (but really, it's a racecar), almost tripping as he glides past shelves of cereal and crackers. "This is so fun!" he laughs to himself, ignoring his mom's concerned protests.

He figures he's going at precisely a million miles an hour (his goal one day is to ride his bike that fast). The next NASCAR champion, wind in his face, some groovy song booming over the supermarket speakers –

_Oomph._

Oops.

A clash of metal, head spinning from the impact, _does the race simply end like this? First-place Shim Changmin is out of the running!_ He's stopped dead in his tracks, his own cart colliding head-on with another.

It takes him a couple seconds to realize that he's not really on a racetrack with hundreds of fans cheering him on. He gulps. He looks up to see a girl seated in the shopping cart, staring at him with large eyes.

"Changmin!" His mother calls out, running over. "I'm so sorry," she apologizes to the woman pushing the cart. “Changmin, apologize right now.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

His mom only shakes her head.  "Mrs. Im, right?" His mom's eyes flash in recognition. "I believe we met once at a friend's party."

The other lady smiles, slight wrinkles around her eyes. "Ah, yes. Nice to see you here, Mrs. Shim."

While the mothers socialize, Changmin curiously peers at the girl sitting in the cart. Her hands are clutching tightly to an unopened bag of lollipops. "I'm Changmin." He reaches out his right hand, remembering the way his dad greets others.

The girl looks at him inquisitively, cocking her head to the side. She doesn't seem to understand. He smiles. "What's your name?"

"Yoona," she says.

"Cool," he replies. He raises an eyebrow when he sees her squirming in her seat. "What are you–“

She jumps out of the cart onto the floor. “It was a bit squishy,” she explains.

He’s amazed at how graceful she is. It kind of reminds him of the people at the circus who can get out of any container no matter what.

“You were racing cars, weren’t you,” she’s teasing him now, eyes shining.

He’s caught a bit off guard. “How did you know?”

“I used to do that until one time I actually fell and got a boo-boo on my knee. That’s why I have to actually sit in the cart now.”

She does talk quite a bit, he notices. “Ah,” he murmurs, his respect for her increasing even more. “That’s so…heroic.” He has a thing for hero movies.

She beams. “What are you buying today?”

“Ingredients for chocolate cake!” he answers happily. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

“Happy early birthday then,” she gives him another smile. He thinks it’s a nice smile.

“Thanks.”

Their moms finish their shopping together and they’re at the checkout line when Changmin’s mom receives a call. “Yes, honey? …Yeah, we’re basically done! See you out in the parking lot. Love you.”

Yoona looks at Changmin, a question in her eyes. “It’s my dad,” the boy explains. “We walked here. The store is close to our house. But daddy just got out of work so he can give us a ride home!”

The girl nods, chewing on her lip.

They meet Mr. Shim outside, the man dressed in a suit and tie. He gives his wife a light kiss on the lips before ruffling Changmin’s hair.

“Honey, this is Mrs. Im, remember her?”

“Oh, nice to meet you again,” he replies, reaching out for a handshake. He turns to his son. “Well, we better get going, soon-to-be-birthday-boy!”

His dad sweeps Changmin up onto his shoulders, and it is from there that Changmin waves goodbye to his newfound friend. “Bye, Yoona!”

That evening, as he gets his hands dirty with melted chocolate and flings flour at his parents, he thinks of her, the girl who smiled, Im Yoona.

 

* * *

 

Across the neighborhood, Yoona is in her room with her stuffed animals, a picture book open in front of her. It is nights like these when she has to hide in her room with the lights dimmed. Her parents are arguing in the living room yet again, and it doesn't help that the book in front of her is one about Cinderella and her Prince Charming.

She purses her lips, remembering the boy she met earlier at the supermarket, and most of all, the sweet words and affection displayed between his parents. A cold feeling creeps into her chest, making her shiver.

She goes to bed after eating a pink lollipop from her secret stash. Strawberry. Somehow it calms her, and she lulls off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Changmin heads off to the park to play. The playground is full of kids, and there is only one empty swing, still swaying back and forth as if someone had just gotten off. He lets out a happy yelp at his luck and jumps on without a thought.

After fifteen minutes or so, he's forced to get off when his mom reminds him that his birthday party is happening that afternoon. He leaps down, almost twisting his ankle in the process. _Oof._ He furrows his eyebrows when his eyes capture of glimpse of something in the sand. He peers closer. It's a lollipop! Just his luck.

 _Finders keepers, losers weepers,_ he thinks giddily. It is his birthday, after all.

Changmin is still clutching the lollipop in his hand when his friends come over, their hoots and yells echoing in the hallway.

"Who's that from?" one of the boys asks, pointing at the lollipop. "It's pink," he giggles, as if it is taboo for a _boy_ to be holding a _pink_ lollipop.

"What's wrong with that," Changmin tilts his chin up in defiance. "And I don't know who it's from. But it's mine."

It tastes sweeter than any other candy he's had. And it's funny because he finds the same exact lollipop in the same exact place underneath the swings five more times in the next year. Sometimes he forgets to look and sometimes he searches earnestly in curiosity, but one thing he knows: each one, to him, is sweeter than the last.

It's strange, he knows. He wonders who it could be.

 

* * *

 

He doesn't see her ( _her,_ the girl who smiled) for almost an infinity. At least, it seems so in his mind. In reality, it is when he is eight years old when he's at the familiar playground once again, but this time, there are some nine-year-olds on the turf. _His_ turf.

"Get out, _shortie,_ " one of them shoves him harshly on the shoulder.

"This is _our_ territory," the other cackles, pouring a bucket of sand on Changmin's hair.

He's rendered speechless, blinking the sand out of his eyes. The nine-year-olds proceed to kick some more sand in his face, laughing hysterically. Changmin clenches his teeth, gaze growing dark. He is really going to explode–

" _Watch it._ " It's a girl's voice. Someone falls into the sand.

Changmin shakes the sand out of his hair and turns around. He rubs his eyes. Once, twice. Is it really her? "Yoona?" he whispers.

She grins, and he can see the gaps where her two front teeth are supposed to be, and she's got the other guy in a choke hold. "Listen," she directs at the perpetrator. "It's not nice to bully others, especially those younger than you. Did anyone ever teach you manners?"

She releases him, then, and he and his friend scramble off into the distance. "Hey," she says. "Changmin, right?"

He nods. "You're really something." And it all comes flooding back to him, the sense of awe he got the first time he met her. Except she's only gotten better since then.

She looks at him, takes in his messy hair and tanned skin and his pants that are a little too short for him. She briefly recalls the image of him gliding headlong down the shopping aisle toward her cart, and she can't hold back a giggle. "Let's play!"

And so they do, guarding their "fortress" (the play structure) against the bad guys (the nine-year-olds who have long since disappeared – _surrendered,_ Changmin insists). In her head, she pretends that she’s a princess and she’s her own kind of Cinderella, the kind who knows a bit of taekwondo and enjoys reading books. And then there’s Changmin, looking through make-shift binoculars and swinging through the monkey bars, and in her six-year-old mind, she decides that he wouldn’t be such a bad Prince Charming, really. Maybe.

But then again, what does she know? So she only smiles and tumbles down the slide after him, laughter ringing in the air.

She likes it.

“Hey Changmin,” she says while they’re at the drinking fountain. “We’re friends, right?”

He grins. “Of course.” And he puts out his right hand. She takes it and grabs it firmly.

And she smiles back.

Later, when it’s getting late and it’s almost time for dinner, Changmin leaves with his dad. Yoona reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a pink lollipop. Heading to where the swings are, she sticks it in the sand.

She walks away.


	2. The Wonder Years [10's]

He walks over, calmly plucking a lollipop out of the sand.

_Strawberry._

These suckers are like a muse to him, he thinks, as he strums the strings by the bench of the whitest hallway in the whole campus. He’s not sure how long Kyuhyun’s going to be in there but while he doesn’t come out, the lyrics start to, like fireworks that light up in the sky, the outburst of ideas, note per note after every word.

Agitated, Changmin jerks the moment the door to the clinic opens, hoping to see his friend but ending up seeing an obviously on a 24/7 diet cheerleader wearing the school team’s colors. Most probably a senior, like himself, the way she observes him and his plain outdated pants from last _year_. _Go Tigers!_ His smile proposes, a small awkward wave before he ends up sitting back again, and she shakes her head, limping out of his way and into the crowd. She stands out, as much as Changmin refuses to admit it, and he knows it’s not because of her sprained ankle.

He shrugs it off when Kyuhyun finally comes out, right ear wrapped in cloth and bandages to prevent further bleeding from a small brawl on the way to school. Not even a sophomore and he’s already making headlines, that Cho Kyuhyun.

“A cheerleader was checking me out,” Changmin brags, a smug smile etched on his face. “The… girl that came out before you did.”

Kyuhyun squints, recalling the other patients in the clinic. “I think we’re in the same year, I’ve seen her in homeroom.”

“Uh, no I don’t think so,” he continues, taking his lollipop out and pointing it at Kyuhyun like a lethal weapon. “I would have noticed that if she were.”

“Oh, Shimmy’s got a crushie,” Kyuhyun teases, chuckling. “If she isn’t, then could be that 1st year who tried out for the cheerleading team? Yunmi, was it? Or Yuri? Yooseul?”

“Yoona! Hey, Yoona!”

A girl, just about Changmin’s shoulders tall (he’s been growing a few inches since middle school, thank you puberty), breaks apart the two boys, ruthlessly pushing her way through the crowd to reach the girl shambling to the lockers.

Changmin nudges Kyuhyun, pointing at her. At Yoona. The name rings a bell, somewhere in memory lane, pulling on his sleeves like how a child would be requesting for another pink lollipop, the one in between his mouth at the moment. He takes it out and it hits him, as abrupt as the eye contact: the brief connection that he too can’t tell whether it’s just a tiny spark of hope, or a complete combustion of the arbitrary past.

 

* * *

 

The first time he’s ever talked to her is a year later, through loud music and endless jabbering at an after game party where the Tigers kills the Wolves at a 3-0 match in basketball. Kyuhyun somehow managed to get their band to play there. Changmin thinks a live band at a home party is a bit overboard, no matter how rich you are or how big the house is, but a gig’s a gig, and he’d much rather keep the money than speak his mind.

They play four songs, until it dawns on Kyuhyun that they never practiced any more than those four songs, so he mumbled something about taking a breather and let the CD to take over their supposed job. Changmin wanders off alone after taking (stealing) an unopened bottle of champagne that he found sitting on one of the tables. He finds a good spot where it’s not completely dark, but far enough from the chaos, and settles there.

“Underage drinking is a big no-no. You do realize the consequences for that, do you?”

He glances up to search for the owner of that voice, and finds a very familiar looking girl raising a brow at him with her hands crossed. “I’m not drinking,” he defends himself.

“Yeah, but you’re about to,” she counters as she settles down next to him.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

They get themselves involved in a staring battle that does not last as long as anyone would expect, because Changmin bursts out laughing soon enough.

“What?” the girl asks, suddenly feeling uneasy. Out of reflex she wipes her mouth, brushes the corners of her eyes and runs her fingers over her hair in case something is stuck there.

“Your shirt,” he simply answers.

She glances down, and true enough, her eyes widen and she yelps in shock. There’s a splat of ketchup across her chest on her white t-shirt. Thinking of how she has been walking around without realizing how long it’s been there, her face flushes into a deep shade of red, embarrassed.

“What–how much did you actually eat?”

“I was hungry, okay. I didn’t eat much before the game,” she pouts while rubbing her finger over the stain in her attempt to remove it, but to no avail.

He watches her quietly for a moment before he takes his sweater off and hands it over to her. “Here, wear this.”

Frowning, she gives him a look. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You can’t go around having those perverts out there staring at your boobs, can you?”

“Hey!” she hits his arm. Her face changes later as though she just thought of something, and she glares at him sharply. “Wait, does that mean you were staring at my boobs?”

“Hmm let’s just say my eyes just happened to fall at the right place.”

“Right place?!”

He manages a chortle and watches as she relaxes and joins in while slipping into his sweater. It’s a little too big for her small frame, but somehow it looks just right on her. “It’s… Yoona, right?” he tries after a minute of silence.

“It sure took you long enough,” she scoffs.

“At least I’m not as bad as Kyuhyun.”

“I don’t know if I should be upset neither of you remember my name, or honoured that some seniors were discussing me,” she playfully jokes. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing, though? I thought the band is paid.”

“So you do notice me.”

“I just checked to see who on earth were polluting the place with such terrible music.”

Changmin chuckles.

They sit there, just the two of them together, for several minutes longer while continuing to banter about trivial matters, like whether the worst cheeseburger of the town comes from their school’s canteen or the diner down the block, or if the cheerleaders are any help at all to boost the team’s energy. Yoona, surprisingly, doesn’t really say much to defend her crew, because “it’s a complete waste of my time,” she says, and recounts how she’s been forced to join so her school diploma looks a little better with a co-curricular participation.

He hears Kyuhyun calling his name, so he shrugs and gets up. “Back to noise polluting,” he mumbles, causing her to laugh. She’s about to take off the sweater to return it to him when he stops her. “Just wear it. I’m not responsible for any boobs-staring event that would be taking place otherwise.”

There’s a hint of familiarity in her laugh, as if he’s heard it before, not in their school, but somewhere, sometime ago that he can’t recall. “You’ll catch a cold,” she says later.

“I’m tougher than you think, you know,” he grins before walking off, leaving her there.

Her lips bloom into a smile as she watches his back growing smaller. She shoves her hands into the pocket, and finds a lollipop in there. The wrapper is slightly covered in dirt, and she chuckles, thinking of the funny coincidences in life.

 

* * *

 

Changmin doesn’t come to school the next day, confined in bed with a rather high fever.

On Tuesday, he finds his sweater in his locker, washed and folded nicely. On top of it sits two lollipops of the same flavour and brand, one that he found in the playground few days before, the other brand new.

He furrows his eyebrows, lips twitching in amusement and confusion simultaneously. Kyuhyun walks over to him to hand him some notes that Changmin had missed while absent.

“Are you okay?” his friend asks.


	3. Looking for Fun [Late 10's]

“No,” he mumbles to himself in dismay.

It is the start of a new semester, and he finds himself groaning. The assignment his English lecturer has given to them early that morning is one he would very much want to avoid even though he knows it is inevitable. He shudders at the mere thought of failing his English paper again, slapping his senses together as he furrows his eyebrows in concentration. _“I can do this. Shim Changmin, you can do this.”_

“For this assignment, I will be pairing each of you into groups of two.”

Changmin lets out a sigh in relief, glad that he would have a pair of helping hands in this particular assignment. (He prays that it is someone more competent than him and not any worse.) The professor calls out name after name, finally reaching Changmin’s as he immediately raises his hand and sits straighter in his seat. “—and Im Yoona.”

“Im Yoona?” Changmin furrows his eyebrows together. Something stirs in his mind but not enough for him to know entirely why he is reacting so naturally to the name. He quickly scans the lecture hall for his partner and spots a hand midair just few seats across from his seat. _Where have I heard this name before?_ He squints his eyes in attempt to identify who his partner is, but her hair obscures her face from view.

His question is answered soon enough when everyone scramble around to find their partners. He stands and cranes his neck at the direction of the female, and finds a lump on his throat when he sees that she is directly looking at him. Her expression is a mask of surprise and confusion as she makes her way slowly towards Changmin.

Changmin’s mouth shapes into a small ‘o’ when realization hits him. There is a sudden flashback of the very same young lady in her cheerleading outfit, pompoms in her hands and hair tied high in a ponytail. The lump in his throat seems to grow the more he looks at her.

“Changmin? _Shim Changmin_?” Yoona calls out when she’s near enough for him to hear, “Are you the Changmin from Seoul High School?” She asks enthusiastically before adding; “Not that I was stalking you or whatsoever before this, it’s just cool to find someone from school!”

Changmin nods, his throat dry. It has been two years since their last meeting with each other; he was sure he would not be seeing her again, but fate seems to have its own way in convincing him otherwise. Yoona beams at him, happy to see a familiar face amidst the new faces in the hall; she vaguely remembers the last time they exchanged smiles with each other, but that was two years ago. Changmin wants to say something, anything to show that he is just as happy to see her, but he finds his throat tangled in a knot of mess.

Yoona doesn’t seem to mind though, for she is still smiling when she tugs his sleeve excitedly and says; “Are you free later? We should head to the library and work on the assignment together.”

“Uh…I’ll be free after five.”

“Alright, shall we meet in the library at say…seven-thirty?”

There is a pause as Changmin finds himself blushing at how Yoona is looking at him, presumably in waiting for his response. Mentally slapping himself, Changmin forces on a smile and nods. “Sounds good.”

“I’ll see you later then!” The brunette takes a step back and waves. “It’s nice seeing you again, Changmin-sshi.”

“You too, er…Yoona-sshi.” He replies with hesitation, and after the departure of his ex-schoolmate, Changmin sinks into his seat and stares blankly at the floor. Horrified at how awkward he was and realizing how rude that must have looked, Changmin covers his face with a hand and groans. “ _What the hell?”_

 

* * *

 

“I’m a little confused. How are we sharing the same class together?”

Later that night, Changmin sees Yoona again in the library, and this time he promises himself he would make better effort into showing a better impression towards the young lady. When he reaches there however, Yoona is already waiting, and he sighs inwardly when he sees that she has already found some books for reference. _So much for making a better impression when she is doing all the work._

“Uh…yeah. I had to…er…take this subject again.”

Yoona smiles and Changmin could see the sly glint in her eyes. “Why? Prepositions were too hard for you?”

“Well, maybe…” Slightly offended, Changmin’s mind works in haste to find a suitable comeback for the teasing Yoona has given to him. “Or maybe I was waiting to take it again once a lovely lady comes in.”

Two seconds pass and Changmin’s heart begins to pound at how blank the brunette in front of him seems to be. Fearing that his joke might have been misunderstood, Changmin sits straighter in his seat. “Er, I didn’t mean…”

Yoona blinks, unamused before erupting into muffled laughter. Changmin could only stare, (not missing the way her eyes seem to lit up in happiness) before the female snorts and brushes a tear away from her eye. “You need to work on your flirting skills, Changmin-sshi.”

He isn’t sure if he is blushing, but if he is, Yoona did not realize.

“But thanks,” She adds with a grin and Changmin feels his heart melting a little bit. “For saying I am lovely.”

Changmin isn’t sure what is happening to him, for his usual snarky self doesn’t seem to be responding to his request at the moment. He isn’t sure if it’s because of all the stress due to the assignment, or if it’s because of…

Yoona laughs. “I think you’re lovely too.”

_…Okay._

 

* * *

 

It is day three of working together when the partners decide to pull an all-nighter in attempt to finish their assignment. Realizing that they only have a day left before the deadline, Changmin and Yoona skim through the fat textbooks on the desk and jot notes onto their notepads. By the third day, they’ve grown considerably more comfortable with one another, and Changmin is sure he has not done much in attribution. Two years of not seeing her, yet she remains as lively and bubbly as she used to be in high school. Her cheerful disposition triggers memories of when he had been in his band and her on the cheering squad, and there could be nothing happier than when he was still in high school.

“Changmin? How’s your part going?”

His thoughts are interrupted and Changmin glances up and makes eye contact with his partner. Ignoring the way his heart seems to be reacting at her doe-like eyes and encouraging smile, Changmin pushes his notepad into her direction. “Not anywhere near the end, but it’s progressing I guess.”

Yoona glances at his scribbling—Changmin winces and mentally knocks himself on the head for not writing properly—and gives a bright smile in response. “Hey, this is good. You’ve got talent in writing!”

“Seriously?” He asks in a skeptical tone and Yoona laughs. _(The sound of her laughter is like silver bells in his ears)_

“No, that was a lie.” She takes her pencil and cuts out a few sentences from his notepad before scribbling onto it. Changmin finds himself burning with embarrassment, but Yoona still had on her smile and he feels a bit more relief. “You don’t have to add so many sentences like these. They are redundant.” Yoona explains as she pushes the notepad back into his direction. “Other than that though, you’re good.”

Changmin nods, glad that he had a partner who knows what she is doing. “Thanks, you’re a life savior.”

“Don’t worry, you’re on the right track!” Yoona encourages him before stifling into a yawn. “I’m getting a little sleepy though. Do you know where to get coffee?”

Changmin glances at his watch and sees the figure of 12.45 a.m gleaming. “I do, but let me get it for you.”

He stands quickly, much to Yoona’s surprise. “You don’t have to though—“

“No, no. I want to. Just wait for me here, alright?” Before waiting for a reply, Changmin walks away from their table in quick but light footsteps, climbing down the staircase two steps at the time before rushing outside the building for the coffee his partner wanted. Three years in university has taught Changmin the locations of every possible coffee machine in campus, and it isn’t long before he returns with two cups of warm coffee in his hands.

Yoona’s face lights up immediately when she sees him, and she accepts the coffee gratefully. “Wow, you’re quick. Thanks!”

Changmin sits back on his seat, his heart still pounding from all the fast walking. He wipes his sweat from his forehead and smiles. “You’re most welcome.”

“Here.” Much to his surprise, Yoona hands him a packet of tissue papers. “It’s better to use this to wipe.”

Beaming at how thoughtful his partner is, Changmin takes the packet from her with another smile. “Thank you.”

Yoona takes a sip from her coffee before breaking into a grin. “You’re most welcome.” She says, and Changmin isn’t sure if she is mirroring what he had told her, or if she really did meant what she said.

“I meant both.” She whispers, and Changmin jumps in his seat in surprise. “What?”

Yoona merely giggles as she resumes drinking her coffee and staring at the book in front of her.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, the result of their assignment is revealed. Changmin breathes a sigh of relief when he stares at the grade of A-, nudging his partner sitting beside him as she gives a slight squeal in delight. “I thought we would only be getting a B! This is better than expected!” Yoona whispers excitedly and Changmin could only laugh at how happy she looked.

“Say, do you want to go out tonight?” The question came out from his mouth before he could fathom his thoughts. The sudden invitation places an abrupt stop on Yoona’s celebration— _is that a blush on her cheeks?_ —before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and smirks; “Is that a date, Shim Changmin?”

By now, Changmin would have gotten used to her sarcasm and wit, but that doesn’t mean it would stop his heart from skipping beats. “If you think it is.” He says sheepishly, trying to act as nonchalant as possible but on the inside he is on the verge of tearing himself apart. _You stupid boy! You don’t invite people for a date like this, you just don’t—_

“I’m expecting flowers, alright?” Yoona chuckles before walking away. It takes Changmin twenty seconds to fully register what he has heard, and this time, unable to hide his excitement, breaks into a grin.

That night, Changmin granted Yoona’s wish by buying her a bouquet of daisies (because Kyuhyun has barked over the phone that he should not buy her roses, granted if he doesn’t want to scare her off) and Yoona’s jaw drops open in complete surprise.

“But…but…I was only…” The hint of red on Yoona’s cheeks is obvious, and Changmin feels a sense of triumph in his heart. _“Shim Changmin!”_

“If you don’t want this though, I can just give this to er…someone else.”

“No!” Yoona reaches out immediately and grabs the bouquet protectively. “Er…I mean, thank you. I really love daisies. They’re beautiful!”

Changmin grins, happy that she is happy. “Not any more beautiful than you, though.”

Yoona turns into a deep shade of red.

 

* * *

 

He’s huffing and puffing through the hallways and he knows that running isn’t exactly his forte, despite his efforts to go to the gym and all. But he’s running with all his might just the same, because he’s late for a date with Yoona and in all their two years of dating, it’s his first time being a whole forty-five minutes late. He passes by some planters and hastily picks a pink flower off the ground.

“Sorry,” he pants. “I had to stay behind for some help from the T.A.” He knows it’s a lame excuse, really, but it is his first year in law school after all. He can’t help it.

Yoona smiles. “It’s alright,” she shrugs it off and puts her arm through his.

“By the way,” Changmin smiles, handing her the flower. “For you.”

She shakes her head, laughing. “You never come empty-handed, do you? So cheesy.” But the slight blush in her cheeks tells him otherwise. He shrugs.

“Let’s go!”

To where, Changmin doesn’t quite know and most likely Yoona doesn’t either, but one thing he’s noticed about Yoona – them – is that as long as they are together, it feels like heaven.

“Where should we go?” he asks, squeezing her hand tightly.

“Hmm,” the college third-year purses her lips, and he finds it altogether adorable. “I’m craving some boba milk tea right now, to be honest.”

When they arrive at the boba shop, they both order strawberry flavored milk tea and Yoona finds it funny that they like the same fruit. What are the chances? But they just exchange smiles and play footsie under the table like the grown-ups they are and Yoona thinks – knows – that she has finally found her Prince Charming.

“Changmin?”

“Yeah?” He looks at her, and she finds herself drowning in his deep gaze. She gulps. She doesn’t know what it is about him – maybe the way his eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles, maybe the way he works hard for his dream of becoming a lawyer, maybe the way he knows the right words to say to make the butterflies in her stomach come alive, or the way his arms wrap securely around her torso and she finally feels at home – she doesn’t know, but she’s undeniably grateful.

He’s leaning forward now, peering at her closely, face propped on his elbows. “What is it?”

She bites her lip. “I – I –” she stutters, and she can feel her cheeks burning pink, and the twinkle in his eye tells her that he notices this.

He chuckles lightly before cupping her chin. “I love you, Yoona,” he breathes, and right before he closes the gap between them, she finds herself saying _I love you, too_ in response, and what happens afterward leaves her breathless.

When they finally pull away, her ears are still red and Changmin looks especially proud of himself (she wants to wipe that smirk off his face). It’s definitely not the first time they’ve kissed in their two years of dating but the effect is still the same.

They decide to randomly browse the grocery store nearby and Yoona vaguely remembers the time they first met in the shopping aisles back home, bringing a smile to her face.

“We first met in a store like this,” she murmurs, swinging their arms back and forth.

“Mmm,” he replies. He has a weird look of nostalgia on his face, and it’s like they’re kids again, racing shopping carts down the aisles. “You were very cute,” he divulges, smirking.

She groans inwardly but secretly she finds it nice – having someone love her.

“And you still are,” he winks.

“You’re cute, too,” she laughs, poking him in the ribcage, causing him to yelp in surprise.

They settle back to looking at all the items on sale. Her eyes are distracted at all the big sale and discount signs and she wants to buy practically everything on the shelves and Changmin chuckles in amusement. “You’re such a kid.”

She merely sticks her tongue out at him. “It’s all just for fun,” she says, humming as she makes her way to the ice cream and dessert section.

There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes and he chuckles. She’s always been more carefree and adventurous out of the two of them, he supposes.  He kind of envies that, how she can smile so lightheartedly all the time, but then he thinks that maybe that’s one reason why he loves her so much – a ray of sunshine in his otherwise drab life, adrenaline coursing through his veins, heart exploding out of his chest.

He observes as she swiftly pulls out some ice cream tubs from the store freezer and puts them in their cart. She’s getting five all at once, and his lips curl into a smile. “What are you up to?” 


	4. Found but Lost [20's]

“Hmm?” she murmurs in response.

One step, two, an arm around a shoulder and she is so thin under his grip. Changmin peers down at the map covering the table, and Yoona doesn’t look up. “What is this?”

Her fingers reach up to his and she rubs his hand, cool to the touch, and then her hand falls back to the map, pointing at a country distant from home. “Wouldn’t it be so nice to travel some? I’ve been looking through places ever since I got back from work. I’m just itching to get out of the apartment, go exploring.”

Changmin laughs, and he runs his fingers through her hair, pushing the headband on her head forward slightly. She doesn’t yell at him like she normally would, eyes still trained on the flimsy paper in front of her, but there is a soft exhale that Changmin just barely catches. “What?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs again. "I just… I really need to get out.”

He pulls his hand back and it takes a minute, but then he’s pulling out the chair in front of her, taking a seat. “Have you been looking for work like I asked?” There is a pause, and Yoona doesn’t look up, but he hears the hitch in her breathing. He’s known her his whole life, after all. “Yoona…”

“I have! Just…” She looks up at him, and her eyes are sparkling, like the world is still in front of her (and maybe it is, but what does Changmin know anymore), “I just feel like there are more important things. I mean, the gift store is nice. I like it.”

“And is that what you want to do with the rest of your life?”

Her gaze drops from him, then, and she looks to the map in front of her. Her hands trace over the colored countries, the light blue water, pausing over words too small for him to decipher. “No. Maybe.” Yoona sighs. "I don’t know, Changmin. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. I just want to live."

 

* * *

 

The sun is beating down on her neck, and Yoona rolls over, falling on to her back. She turns her head to the side and watches Changmin breathe – soft, steady inhales and exhales, quiet snores and his hair mussed up. She smiles and scoots over to him, wrapping her arm around his bare chest.

“Changmin,” she whispers, nuzzling her head into head into his neck, and he groans but says nothing. It feels like it’s been so long since she’s woken up in his apartment with him at her side, peaceful and calm. No running, no stress.

“Changmin. Wake up.”

She shakes him lightly, tightening her grip around his waist and squeezing at the warm flesh.

Changmin yawns, and then he is blinking at her, innocent eyes and a pretty gaze. “Yoona?”

“Hm?”

He breaks out into a smile, and Yoona thinks she should be used to the morning breath but she wrinkles her nose anyways, smiling back at him. “What are you doing up? It always takes you so long to get out of bed.”

“I just… felt alive. Awake.” Yoona reaches for his hand and interlocks their fingers, one corner of her lips turned up. “And for the record, I am still in bed.” Changmin laughs, pressing a kiss to her cheek, and she smooths his hair off of his forehead with her freehand before propping her head up with her arm. “I have to run by my apartment later, I forgot my work outfit at home and I’ve got a shift tomorrow.”

Changmin shifts so he is lying on his side, looking at her, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just sell that place? You’ve practically moved in already.”

Yoona tenses, and then she drops his hand, rubbing at her neck. “I like – I like having my own place. Just in case.”

“In case?” He’s looking at her, now, with that warning gaze of his, and she feels herself breaking under it like usual.

“Just, you know.” Changmin’s eyebrow is still raised and Yoona deflates, falling on to her back. She counts the stars glued up on the ceiling of his bedroom, the little breaks in the call and the uneven coloring the one time she had accidentally gotten food up there. “I’m not ready to settle down. I still want to travel, look around. I can’t… Give that freedom up yet.”

Changmin sighs, and she closes her eyes. “Yoona, you don’t have to give up anything.”

“I know, I know. I just… I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

She feels his hand enclosing over hers, braces herself for the soft yoona that follows, before tugging her hand out of his grip and throwing the sheets off of her.

“I’m going to wash up. Get out of bed soon.”

Yoona pulls herself out of the bed and doesn’t wince when Changmin sighs loudly; she pretends not to see the arm tossed over his eyes or his tight grip around the sheets.

(“she doesn’t want to do anything! it’s as if the whole world is ahead of her, like she has nothing to lose.”

“she’s young, changmin. you both are. you should enjoy it.”

changmin snorts, nudging the chinese girl’s shoulder with his own. “as if you’re so old, song qian. stop talking like you’re a grandmother.”

qian laughs and pushes the teapot towards him, eyes crinkling into little crescents. “might as well be one at this point, right?” then her eyes are softening, and changmin prepares himself for the lecture to follow. “seriously, though, you should talk to her about it.”

“i’ve tried! she’s always avoiding the topic, always just wants to talk about traveling and irrelevant things like that.”

qian sighs, resting her chin on her arms, and she glances at changmin through her peripheral vision. “there’s nothing wrong with her wanting to explore, changmin. if anything, you should be supporting it.”

changmin sighs. “we both know it’s not practical.” qian snorts and he pushes at her again, ignoring the little shivers that run up his shoulder. “don’t laugh at me, it’s true!”

“everyone needs to be a dreamer. it’s what keeps us alive.”

his phone rings, then, and changmin and qian both glance down to his cell phone, a bright ♥ _im yoona_ ♥ on the front screen. qian looks up at him, at changmin staring at the screen forlornly, before he sighs and presses the red decline button.

the rest of the hour passes by slowly, the conversation dying down after that phone call, and it isn’t until changmin pays the bill of their cafe meet-up that song qian taps his foot with her own. “do you wanna go drinking? i’ll treat.”

changmin laughs, a single chuckle, and then shakes his head. his gaze is once again trained on the black screen of his cell phone. “no, i probably should go home sober. who knows what will happen otherwise.”

victoria sighs, placing her hand over his. changmin shivers and thinks about an end.)

 

* * *

 

When Changmin gets back inside his apartment, the light of the bedroom is still on, a dim yellow in the rest of the darkness. Yoona is sitting up on the bed with her reading glasses on, a book in her hands and her hair tied up in a ponytail.

“You’re back,” she whispers, and she smiles at him with that tilt in her mouth. Changmin smiles back, walking towards her to press a quick kiss to her lips.

 _I didn’t think you’d stay tonight_ , he wants to say. Instead: “Yeah.” He kisses her again, and Changmin remembers why he fell in love with her, the fringe falling out of her ponytail and the innocent face crinkled up in fatigue. “I’m gonna go wash up.”

Yoona smiles at him, setting the book to the side, and she snuggles under the covers, watching him step into the bathroom.

By the time he comes out, the lamp on the night stand is still on, but Yoona is fast asleep, arms hanging off the side of the bed. Changmin slips in next to her, reaching over to turn on the light, and then pulls her closer towards him. The bed is cold, but warmth is radiating off of her, pleasant in the late night chill.

“I still love you,” he whispers. “I still love you, Im Yoona.”

She doesn’t say anything back, but she snuggles closer into his hold and Changmin thinks Yoona has heard him anyways.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t understand why you’re being like this again!” Yoona can feel herself heating up, hands balled up into tight fists at her side, body trembling. “You always think everything I do is impractical, like I’m some stupid, incompetent child!”

“Because you act like one!” Changmin is yelling back, now, and she doesn’t think she’s ever heard him yell like this, so loud and frustrated and… hurtful. “You’re so immature, and I don’t want to always have to worry about what you’re doing because you can’t take care of yourself!”

She slumps then, expression falling into a pained one, and she leans back against the wall. “When have you ever had to take care of me? When have I ever done something so stupid that you had to watch over me like I was some reckless teenager?”

“Yoona–”

Yoona closes her eyes, head falling back against the plaster. “Don’t.” She feels Changmin step closer and tenses, body suddenly rigid. “Just… just because I want to travel, because I feel like my place in this world is not held up in this tiny area, you think I’m impractical. That dreams don’t come true so stick to what will happen.”

Changmin sighs. “Yoona, you know it isn’t like that. I’ve never thought of you as less than me. Just reckless. You’ve just needed someone to keep you grounded.”

“Grounded?” Her eyes open, then, and the look in her eyes Changmin has never seen before. _The end_ , he thinks _. The end_. “And what if I don’t want to be grounded?”

“Yoona…”

“There you go again, patronizing me.” Yoona snorts, arms crossing, and she picks herself up off the wall, stepping forward and past him. “I don’t – I can’t do this.” She turns around then, and Changmin wants to grab her hand, wants to hold her, but he just lets his shoulders fall and his eyes do the talking. “I’ll call you later.”

Yoona is out of the bedroom, then, and he hears the front door shut without an _I love you_ before it.

 

* * *

 

She’s got a suitcase in hand, as if they were together once upon a time, under one roof like one family. “I think my purpose,” she begins, and her voice is soft, so unlike the week before, the angry yelling, the unshed tears, “is not here. I’ve been looking for other work.”

“And?” Changmin prompts. He’s leaning against the door frame of his bedroom, and they are so far apart.

“The PeaceCorps. It’s traveling, it’s helping. It’s… giving back to the world, what I never thought I had.”

He can’t help himself, but he smiles. A small upturn of his lips, one Yoona wouldn’t have noticed if she didn’t know all of his quirks and habits at this point in her life. “I’m – I’m happy for you.”

“I know.” Yoona smiles back, and she lets the suitcase fall drop to the floor.

“Where are you heading first?”

Yoona crosses her arms, letting her head rest against the door frame of the front door. She shivers in the incoming breeze and he thinks about offering her a coat. “There’s a youth development program in the Philippines I was looking at,” she says, her voice soft. “And you know how much I love kids.”

“Yeah.” Changmin nods. “Of course.”

“And you–” Yoona steps forward, continues up until she’s right in front of him, looking at their feet in front of each other. “You can help the world with your expert in law, and I can help by traveling the world, and we can just, you know… do things our own way.” She laughs, and Changmin can see the tears in her eyes, then, and he wonders if the blurriness is the own wetness in his eyes. Yoona reaches forward for his hand, pushing her fingers in between his knuckles one last time, and then she is leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Yoona–”

“I love you, Changmin,” she whispers. Yoona steps back, and there is a burning in her heart and a tension in the air that is almost palpable.

“Yeah. Yeah, I love you too.”

Yoona breaks out into a smile, nodding her head, and then walks back to the front door, her back turned to him. It’s the last of he sees of her, until then.

Yoona sighs, then, and finally: “I think we should break up, Changmin.” Her hand curls around the handle of the suitcase, and she pulls it up, and when the door shuts behind her Changmin thinks the world might have ended.

 

* * *

 

“Qian? Hey, it’s Changmin. You think I could take you up on that offer for drinks? Yeah? Okay, awesome. Then it’s a date.” 


	5. Radio Silence [30's]

 

> ****From:**  **changmin18@hotmail.com **  
> To:** im_yoona@simplelife.com  
>  **Subject:** Sup  
>  **Date:** September 12, 2005
> 
> Hey,
> 
> Took me a while to track down your new e-mail address... I tried sending to the personal one I knew for a while, but you never replied. It's okay, just ignore those. I just wanted to know what your mailing address is. I need to send something. Let me know soon, okay?
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Changmin
> 
> P.S.: Hope you're doing fine.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** im_yoona@simplelife.com  
>  **To:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **Subject:** Re: Sup  
>  **Date:** September 19, 2005
> 
> 659 Myeondeok Street, Namsan 4 District, South Korea. Send to room 12, floor 14. This is my work address.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Im Yoona  
>  _Columnist, Simple Life Magazine_
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** im_yoona@simplelife.com  
>  **Subject:** Re: Re: Sup  
>  **Date:** September 19, 2005
> 
> Haha, you don't have a home address?
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** im_yoona@simplelife.com  
>  **To:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **Subject:** Address  
>  **Date:** September 23, 2005
> 
> Hello,
> 
> You emailed me at my work address. I answered you accordingly.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Im Yoona  
>  _Columnist, Simple Life Magazine_
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** im_yoona@simplelife.com  
>  **Subject:** Re: Address  
>  **Date:** September 23, 2005
> 
> Alright, I sent you something. Tell me when you receive it!
> 
> It's nice hearing from you after a long time. I read your magazine sometimes.
> 
> I hope you're doing well.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** im_yoona@simplelife.com  
>  **To:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **Subject:**  
>  **Date:** September 23, 2005
> 
> Good day,
> 
> Unfortunately, I am out of office from the 23rd to the 31st. I will get back to you as soon as possible.
> 
> If you are need of immediate assistance in regards to anything related to our magazine, Simple Life, you may contact our Chief Editor, Kim Heechul at kim_heechul@simplelife.com or you may reach him at (999) 891-9181.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Im Yoona  
>  _Columnist, Simple Life Magazine_

 

* * *

 

She never gets back to him, but he expected that much. At least she's in the country, he shrugs. He smiles to himself because he always thought she would be anywhere but here.

 

* * *

 

"How was Nepal?" Sooyoung asks when she sees Yoona come through the door. "Was it hot?"

"Yeah," Yoona jeers, pulling off her trenchcoat. "But it was worth it. I got a lot of work done. Though the research team there wasn't incredibly helpful..."

"Aw well, all is good as long as you got to see what you needed to see and as long as you can come up with something good to make up for the lack of interesting articles we've been coming up with lately," Sooyoung laughs from her desk, sipping her espresso delicately.

"Of course, put all the pressure on me," Yoona rolls her eyes.

"Haha, I don't think I missed your sarcasm," Sooyoung hisses.

"But you were obviously beyond bored without me around," Yoona grins. "I land and suddenly my phone gets reception and starts buzzing like crazy with new texts... 106 unread... Really?"

"Oh c'mon you know I need a buddy to keep me awake," Sooyoung glowers. "The coffee isn't doing its job anymore."

Yoona chuckles, dropping her umbrella in a bucket near the entrance. "No one called for me, right?" Yoona asks. From her desk, Sooyoung shakes her head slowly, too focused on searching up energy drinks to glance over. "Okay..." Yoona mutters, walking by a few other workers before plopping down onto her cushiony seat and letting out a big huff.

She's about to reach over to revive her PC when her hand grazes by a messy package sprawled across some of her papers. She recognizes Changmin's name written in familiar penmanship on the back, and it takes her two minutes before she's searching up his address and rolling her eyes because _he still lives in the same neighbourhood_.

It's nothing elaborate when she gently peels the tape apart and pulls out just an ornate envelope with her name on it. It's crisp and baby blue, simple calligraphy decorating the card inside.

She flips it open, sees a name that is barely a fragment of a memory in the deepest part of her mind and reads through it, once, twice, too many times. She drops it when she realizes her fingers are shaking, heaving painfully at the pounding of reality.

_You are cordially invited to the auspicious event of Shim Changmin and Song Qian's marriage._

 

* * *

 

"You should RSVP," Sooyoung notes, staring at the card curled up at the corner of Yoona's desk. "You know... not to be rude and stuff."

"Yeah..." Yoona murmurs (anything to be left alone, she thinks). Sooyoung is the type who gets the hint. She doesn't hover too long usually, asks if everything is okay before backing off. But she lingers today, and Yoona wonders if it's because Sooyoung's heard her of her losses over late night drinks over and over and knows how much this much hurt.

"Aren't you going home today?" she asks when she's picking up her umbrella and sees Yoona still staring aimlessly at her screen.

"I think I'll work late," Yoona calls out, not looking over. She hears a goodbye and the sounds of footsteps fading into the distance. It's quiet and she thinks maybe the sound of the other office workers was more comforting than the silence that numbs her mind now. Suddenly there is nothing to distract her from the thoughts in her mind and she wonders if going home with Sooyoung would've been a better choice.

 _How is he getting married?_ It's not like Qian was that unfamiliar of a name. She'd heard through friends that Changmin was seeing someone, and she supposes that back then it hadn't seemed so surreal. He moved on. So what? Didn't she expect that much?

But suddenly there is more to know than she wants to and she realizes that even though she's vaguely kept up with him over the past years (social networking and whatnot)... she actually hasn't. And the moment of anger in the pit of her stomach is accusatory because Changmin was always the one who initiated things, why didn't he call earlier, why didn't he ask her opinion for anything, why didn't he reach out sooner?

She guesses that maybe she always thought breakups would be easier, that she would be the one cutting things off, that she would be the one who would be happy in the end, that maybe they'd connect often enough to stay friends. But they didn't and she frowns because she realizes she's already logging into her ancient Facebook account, her fingers moving mechanically as she searches his name.

She wishes she hadn't...

 

* * *

 

His profile is cluttered with pictures with her, of them hugging at a picnic, of them holding hands on a date, of them kissing under the starlit sky. Some photos are old; she recognizes them as the first days of dating. Most of them are new, things she doesn't remember seeing because she hasn't really been online in a while.

 

 

> **Second year anniversary! I love you Song Qian.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Dinner date with my queen.**
> 
>  
> 
> **I want to spend the rest of my life with you.**

 

She scrolls through years of his life in under an hour, pausing on all the pictures of places she recognizes. _You took me there once on a date_ , she glowers at the monitor. And it's only when she stumbles upon her own feed, discoloured with only a few pictures of her first (and only) days of interest in Facebook, she realizes how sad she is.

 

 

> **Hiking. The weather is nice out and the world is just a decorated canvas waiting to be explored.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Nothing more interesting than finding a strange flower here and there.**

 

She is smiling next to mountains, she is smiling in the Sahara, she is smiling meeting important people. Everything is captioned with long sentences of information that she realizes never really mattered. Because even though she was distracting herself from the deep distress in her heart, she wasn't exactly happy. And only now, as she sees what happiness must look like in Changmin's life, she realizes that maybe she only ever posted those few photos to make herself feel better about herself, maybe she got over social networking so quickly because she just couldn't stand seeing everyone else living life the way they always wanted to.

She wrinkles her nose. Why _is Changmin wearing green. He never liked green._ ( **Gift from my leading lady** , it says next to the picture). _Why is Changmin buying those chocolates... He said they were overrated. Why is Changmin taking her to see that movie. He doesn't like romcoms._

It goes on until she realizes she's crying and it hits her kind of sadly that maybe she did want a life with traveling and adventure. But maybe she wanted that life with him. And as she deletes the few things on her profile, she wonders if the portrait of her life will ever look as complete as his. Because in his pictures at least he's not alone.

 

* * *

 

"Are you okay with vanilla for the cake?" Qian asks over the counter, handing him a cup of cocoa and then settling down next to him. He doesn't respond, simply stares emptily out the nearby window. "What's wrong?" she coos, running her hand through his hair softly.

"Hm?" Changmin glances over at her. "Nothing, just thinking."

"Ah, I see," she nods knowingly. "Yoona didn't reply?"

"Nope," he sighs. "I'd ask someone for her number but I'm at the point where I guess I realize she probably doesn't really want to see me."

"I don't think that's it," she murmurs, reaching for his hand and tying her fingers into his. "I think everyone needs space, but she's known you since you were kids. I doubt she'd miss your big day."

"That's wishful thinking," Changmin huffs. "She'd probably come up with a good excuse too. Something about being abroad studying some new culture in Africa that's inherently important for her magazine."

"Oh don't be so sour," Qian rolls her eyes, but there is sadness in his eyes and her features soften as she leans closer to him. "Changmin?"

"Yeah?"

She stares at him for a moment before smiling. "What bothers you more? The fact that you _think_ your best friend has blacklisted you from her life or the fact that you can't come to terms with the fact that maybe you're the one who pushed her out in the first place?"

"I didn't–"

"Shh," she presses her index finger to his mouth. "You need to stop feeling selfish for letting go when you knew there couldn't be compromise in that relationship. You tried to keep in touch, you tried to keep her in your life, you tried to connect with her as a friend, but it's not your fault if she didn't respond the way you wanted."

"It is my fault that she wants to stay away though."

Qian cocks her head to the side. "How do you know she wants to stay away?"

"I–"

"You're assuming."

"I'm being logical."

She laughs. "Think of it this way... You have a case, you might know for sure that you're fighting for a lost cause but you fight nonetheless. You'd look at any reasonable answer that would make your case more plausible, right? So I wonder, where is that man I know? The man who wouldn't look at the story, but what's between the lines... the man who would find any substantial reason to justify optimism, to believe that what's between you and Yoona now isn't just distance, but something deeper... the man I'm going to marry in two months, where is he?"

He stares at her for a moment, softly touching her cheek and brushing stray locks behind her ear. "I'm right here," he whispers against her lips, kissing her gently, delicately, and the melting butterflies that wrap around his stomach make him feel light and airy.

"I love you," she murmurs. "Stop worrying."

He breathes and all he takes in is her. For a single moment, he's younger, he's on his knees asking her to be his wife, and she's crying and blubbering something in Mandarin that he doesn't get at all ( _Does that mean yes because if you're saying no, it'll be really awkward_ ). She hugs him now, tight and reassuring and he thinks she fits perfectly against his frame.

He doesn't regret anything really. Not saying he doesn't miss his company of the past, just that he's slowly found ways to repair his soul, people who can make him whole, who can fill his heart and make him forget that it was ever incomplete. Yeah, he smiles to himself, he's happy and Qian is more than what he deserves. She's going to be his forever, she's going to be the happily ever after he's always dreamt of, she's perfect.

They are perfect. They are in love. And there is nothing more relevant beyond the magnitude of their feelings for each other.

(He tries not to admit that this isn't the first time he's been so in love.)

 

* * *

 

She's eaten through two tubs of ice cream and had a long spa date with Sooyoung, whining over all the things that are fucked up in her life and all the things she wishes were better. She's worked late the past week, the wedding invite is still rotting away on her desk and she's still scrutinizing photos on Facebook when she leans back in her chair and furrows her eyebrows in concentration.

 _What was the password for that email address?_ she wonders, tapping her foot and pen simultaneously for a good dozen minutes before navigating through a few websites and attempting to log in to a morbidly dormant personal email account. It takes three tries before the screen finally welcomes her to too many unread messages.

She reads. Her heart breaks.

 

 

> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com

 

> **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Hey  
>  **Date:** March 23, 2000
> 
> If you want to talk... I'm here and I want to talk.
> 
> Call me.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** I'm sorry  
>  **Date:** March 31, 2000
> 
> I know this is tough, but it happened. We broke up. And even though it hurts, I think you'll realize at some point that it's for the best...
> 
> Please answer my calls, please answer my emails, please answer the door. I knock, but you shut me out. I'm here Yoona, I'm always here, I've always been here, but if you want me to go I will.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Changmin
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** [No Subject]  
>  **Date:** November 8, 2000
> 
> Hey, heard you moved out of the country... I'm happy you're doing what you always wanted to do. I'm really happy for you.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Hi  
>  **Date:** April 28, 2001
> 
> I'm doing fine, by the way.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Finally!!!!  
>  **Date:** October 16, 2001
> 
> Hey, so this really good company hired me and I'm going to do my first official case soon. I guess I'm excited. It's a big step.
> 
> Oh, and Qian says hi. She says she wants you to visit.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Happy holidays Yoona  
>  **Date:** December 25, 2001
> 
> Merry Christmas. I hope you're spending your holidays with people you love. I'm getting together with some of the old friends for a drink, wish you could make it but I know you're busy.
> 
> It's snowing here now, not the pretty kind of snow but the slushy one that's dirty and disgusting. Qian likes it but I don't... That's okay though. I'm learning to live with things I can't change.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** New Year Greetings  
>  **Date:** January 1, 2002
> 
> Happy New Year. Wishing you the best.
> 
> \-- Changmin
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** I miss you  
>  **Date:** June 17, 2002
> 
> I wish we could talk... I want your opinion because I'm conflicted... and I know this is strange considering the circumstances between us, but you've always been my greatest confidant and I think I'm falling in love with Qian.
> 
> I'm not sure how to express it. Would it be weird to say that I feel like I'm in university again? I feel like I'm alive again.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** I'm sorry  
>  **Date:** September 2, 2002
> 
> Hey Yoong,
> 
> I read your first column in the magazine. You're killing it. Keep up the awesome work.
> 
> Miss you,
> 
> Changmin
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** [No Subject]  
>  **Date:** February 6, 2003
> 
> I'm dating her and I feel really good. She completes me in a way I never understood I was missing anything. You would really like Qian, she's funny and outgoing. If you drop by the neighbourhood, come see us. You two would hit it off, I swear.
> 
> She doesn't cook that well though, but I guess I got spoiled with all the stuff you used to make for me. Sometimes she goes off on rants in Mandarin and I'm so lost but she looks really cute when she does that so I don't care I guess.
> 
> She knows how to fix my tie and stuff before work. She's there to say goodbye when I leave and to say hello when I come home. It's perfect I think (if not perfect then it's almost there). I used to dream of this I suppose. Living a simple, banal life, with a happy family.
> 
> I hope you've found the happiness you were searching for too.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Annoyed......  
>  **Date:** August 30, 2003
> 
> She's kind of a clean freak. I mean I can't do anything without her picking on all the things I could do better. Why are women like that though? I'm doing my best and she doesn't see it...
> 
> I wish you were here... Sometimes I get really frustrated sitting around with people like Kyuhyun or Minho because they don't have real solutions. They drink their problems away. I miss having you around to talk to, you gave real advice, and I think that's what always made you so special and easy to talk to. You spoke to people the way you wanted to be spoken to.
> 
> Call me anytime... look me up or something, I don't know... I feel like I've lost you and I feel like you're avoiding me. I'm going to try not to make that excuse because even though you never reply to my emails, I'll just hope that it's because you forgot your password or you're too busy.
> 
> Send me a smiley face if you at least read them. Tell me you're doing good. That's all I need.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** I realized something  
>  **Date:** January 18, 2004
> 
> It's weird that we get into arguments nowadays and I just end up smiling and she looks at me all flustered and yells because she doesn't like me mocking her anger. I just tell her I think she looks cute and that I don't want to waste time like this when I would much rather see her smile.
> 
> She usually grins a lot.
> 
> I was looking through an old yearbook and I found a picture of you. You were such a nerdy looking kid, I couldn't stop laughing. But then I realized I don't even know what you look like anymore... Is your hair still long? Is it the same colour? Did you grow taller (I know you didn't so don't lie)?
> 
> I think I look the same... hair is dull and shaggy. I attached a picture. Don't say it looks ugly, I work hard to look handsome.
> 
> Love,
> 
> Changmin
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Facebook  
>  **Date:** May 1, 2004
> 
> Added you on Facebook. Hope this will be our gateway to keeping in touch.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Travelling  
>  **Date:** July 14, 2004
> 
> I'm planning on taking a break from work to go on vacation with Qian. Do you have any suggestions on where we should go? I can see from your articles and posts that you've been around, haven't you?
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** LOL  
>  **Date:** December 13, 2004
> 
> Hey Yoona,
> 
> I'm at a point where I feel kind of silly writing to you knowing there will never be a reply. Is it so hard to say hello? Do you hate me? Did I hurt you that much?
> 
> If you want me out of your life, please tell me. I'll stop trying to keep up with you. But if not, give me a chance. I know we can be really good friends. Weren't we always good friends? Don't you ever think about me? Wonder maybe what I'm up to? Do you see my posts on Facebook?
> 
> I miss you. I really do. I want to meet you, sit down for some coffee and catch up. Trust me. Sometimes the easiest way to recover is to face your pain head on. And honestly, it's been too long. If you're hurting, please let me help you. Don't hide from me, don't hide from reality. Please Yoona.
> 
> Please.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** What's the point of writing a subject when you won't see this anyways  
>  **Date:** March 4, 2005
> 
> I'm going to propose to her. I want her in my life forever, I want her to be my wife. It's a gut feeling, but I know it's right.
> 
> If you're nearby, come help me pick out a ring. I value your taste the most.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** This is the last one  
>  **Date:** June 20, 2005
> 
> Hello,
> 
> I could write a long essay. But I won't.
> 
> I wish you the best in life. I will always love you and you will always have a special place in my heart no matter what.
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> Shim Changmin
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Okay, actually this is the last one  
>  **Date:** September 12, 2005
> 
> I'm not a stalker (honestly), but I found your work address online. Isn't the Internet so magical nowadays! I heard that soon even the dial-up is going to vanish and it's going to be so much faster.
> 
> Anyways, gonna email you there and hope for a reply! Don't fail me now.
> 
>  
> 
> **From:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **To:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **Subject:** Really the last last last one. Promise  
>  **Date:** September 23, 2005
> 
> Guess what? I got an automated response from your work email. Wow, fate is so weird, I wish your personal account had that... at least I wouldn't feel so down about not being answered (even though being answered by a machine isn't any better).
> 
> Anyways, thanks for replying. I'm emailing again on this because I think it's become inherently a part of me... It's kind of relieving talking to the emptiness of your full inbox, like I'm letting go of all the past and moving towards a nicer future. Plus your work email intimidates me so I'm just gonna stay away from that.
> 
> To the point... I wanted to ask you to please call back. I want to hear your voice or see your face or something. You live in the same country as me and you haven't come to my house. You know I'm still living at the same place and yet you don't contact me. You know I can just walk into your building, but I'm not that evil (I think)... Qian says you might want space... Well it's been years of that, and I'm kind of tired of this.
> 
> I'm engaged now, I think this is the pinnacle of moving on and yet I need my friends right now. Qian isn't a bridezilla, but she's tense when it comes to wedding related stuff. I'm letting her do everything because I know she'll make it perfect. The only thing I have to do at this point is convince you to come to the big day... It'll mean the world to me, please.
> 
> I know I'm horrible. What kind of monster am I? Leaving you because I felt like we could never come to terms on what we wanted in life... Telling you about my own aftermath and new relationships when you probably don't want to hear about it. Yeah, I guess I do suck, but I guess I figured talking about my problems helped me realize that there was so much more to my life than just what I had envisioned. And I suppose in trying to keep you up to date with my happenings, I thought it would help you too.
> 
> I'll be honest, I miss you. I miss being around you. I'll be even more honest. I was a fucking asshole. I'm sorry. And I know that doesn't fix things between us, but some things happen for a reason. Maybe our love story didn't have a final chapter... Maybe it was an abrupt ending, maybe a cliffhanger. In any case, you weren't the only one who was hurt by that.
> 
> It's hard to leave someone you've loved for so long. But I know we can be friends. I feel like all that needed to happen so that we could be where we are today. And I'm sure you're satisfied with who you've become. I'm proud of you. And yet I feel like if we hadn't called it quits, you would be stuck with me, not moving towards anything you wanted from life. And the same goes for me I guess... I would've never had the chance to meet and love Qian if I didn't go through what I did.
> 
> I guess what I'm saying is that fate is strange and cruel sometimes. But I don't think there's a point in completely cutting off everything we had together. We were friends. We have memories, Yoona. And all I'm asking is for a chance to continue. So please come to my wedding, make me the happiest guy ever and come chat with me, tell me about yourself and I'll forget all these years of silence.
> 
> I'm sorry that I hurt you. I really am. But it's finally time to move on and not be stuck in the past, bitter over what could've been. And if you haven't been able to do it up to now, let me help you from here on.
> 
> Lots of love,
> 
> Changmin

 

It's dark out when she finishes looking through all his emails, rereading the more important ones and glancing over the ones in between where he's sent her pictures of random things she realizes she suddenly cares about.

His words touch her and for once she wonders why she was in fact so stuck on blaming him for everything that happened. She realizes that she always thought Changmin came out of their break-up unscathed. He moved on, he found love elsewhere and she felt betrayed. But as she stares at her inbox, she realizes there was so much more to the story than she could've ever imagined.

And she feels horrible for ever thinking that he never cared. Oh, he cared. He sent her his whole life in the form of prim words, iced with hidden emotions that are suddenly bleeding through her soul.

She wishes (so much) that she had checked her email earlier. It would've saved many years worth of pain because she knows she would've replied.

 

* * *

 

Changmin stares at the shelves before him and sighs. He's getting married in under a week, and he knows she's not coming.

It's a pessimistic feeling, but he knows it's right.

The night is quiet and stale. He wonders where she is, what she's up to, if she's at home sleeping or staring at the sky like him. Changmin frowns and picks up a magazine from his collection, settling down into the couch and reading the words as if Yoona were dictating them to him orally.

(He wonders if it's time to finally get rid of her magazines. He has them all. Each and every single edition. He would never tell her but he's read them all even though they aren't all that interesting. And they suddenly feel like a heavy weight burdening him even more than he needs).

He slowly gets up and puts the magazine back on the expansive shelf. No... he's not ready to throw it all away.

 

* * *

 

She never liked giving up. No, that was never her style. But she guesses things do indeed change over time, and for once she's willing to accept her unhappiness and move on. It's for the best, she thinks. _Maybe I do need to help myself._

So she starts typing, and when she's sent him an email, she feels something welling in her stomach. She hopes it's the sense of achievement. She realizes that it's strange how people feel complete when they have everything they want, and only realize what they want when they've lost everything. It dawns on her that she never understood what her dreams really were until her stubbornness to reach for those same dreams pushed him away. And she guesses it was a blessing in disguise... because at least now she knows the difference between what she wanted and what she wants.

She wants to be adventurous, but with someone. She wants to travel, but with someone. She wants to do new things, but with someone. 

She wants to feel alive. So she throws the wedding invitation in the trash and takes a deep breath. She feels okay.

She feels better than okay. She feels good.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

> **From:** yoong1990@yahoo.com  
>  **To:** changmin18@hotmail.com  
>  **Subject:** I'm here.  
>  **Date:** September 26, 2005
> 
> Hi Changmin,
> 
> I'm replying from this email address because I want you to know that I read everything you sent. Not when you sent it but now I'm reading it and I want to thank you for sharing your life with me. I guess I'm happy that I know who you are and what you've become. I'm also happy you reached out because in all honestly I guess I did need this nudge to realize I was fucking myself over.
> 
> Honestly, I'm too lazy to type things for you. You could read my magazines and know about what I've been up to and that would be enough, but I know it's not. So I'll just say this much. My hair is shoulder length now, it's still a dark brown. I did grow taller, in my opinion and no this isn't a biased lie.
> 
> I haven't been fine, but thank you for asking. At least I thought I was okay, but I guess I'm not. I'm not completely happy but I'm glad that you have found something to smile for. Just you wait, I'll find something to smile for as well.
> 
> But until then I'm not ready to come face to face with you. I want to heal. I've been living in such a cloud of misunderstanding and denial that I'm only coming to terms with things now, and when I see you, I want to be strong and beautiful so you know what you missed out on, you asshole.
> 
> That being said, I can't make it to your wedding. I'll send a gift, and my gratitude for remembering me, but I hope you understand. Tell Qian thank you for taking care of my best friend so well. Tell her she's beautiful and I think you guys will make a very happy couple. Wishing you the best.
> 
> Anyways, I missed you too. I'm ready to admit that I'm at least happy you were a part of my life... I hope you can continue to be a part of my life someday, just not now. But when that day comes, when I'm ready, when I'm fine, when I'm happy, then I'll call you, and we'll catch up.
> 
> Until then... forever yours,
> 
> Im Yoona
> 
> P.S.: I've already upgraded from dial-up. You're still living the sad caveman life. I pity you, loser. 

 


	6. Not a Love Song [Late 30's]

He wanders about the park, kicking dirt and pebbles with the tip of his shoe, hands shoved in the pockets. The place is rather deserted, save from some passers-by every few minutes. After all it’s a Sunday afternoon, still too chilly to spend too much time outdoors. It’s perfect though he thinks, the weather. The coldness is a good distraction that enables him to focus solely on keeping warm.

They had a fight again, him and Qian, though he doesn’t think it’s considered a fight, because there aren’t enough spoken words to prove so, only empty gazes and bottled up feelings. It’s been like that for years. He’s always too tired to address the issue, while she just refuses to prolong it. They are good at avoiding problems, choosing to close one eye at the growing cancer between them instead of sitting down together to talk things over. Day by day, their conversations grow shorter and shorter while their exchanged words grow more limited. Looking back, he hadn’t realized when they’re having meals together, asking each other about their days started being a chore rather than a personal time for them to enjoy.

Changmin rests and lays his back on one of the benches by the playground with a lollipop in mouth, staring into the distance for a minute before he pulls out his phone. He browses through his me2day timeline (not that he updates that often) and stops short when a certain entry catches his eyes. It’s Sooyeon, who posted from her New York home to congratulate Yoona’s first article that made it into the National Geographic magazine. She attached the article in her entry, so Changmin takes his time to read it (or at least try to ― holding both degree and Masters in Law doesn’t really come along with a guarantee of English fluency).

He blinks. When was the last time he actually talked to Yoona? Though they have gone past the awkward stage of their (former) relationship―their tearful last exchanged emails now long forgotten―and had a mutual agreement to keep their friendship, they never really met or spoke to each other often. Life gets in the way, more often than not. She gets caught up with work, while he has been busy playing the role of a responsible husband.

He snaps out of his reverie when his phone falls flat on his face, and his nose does a job of wonder of hitting the dial button. That’s when he realized he has been staring at her number. He fumbles to find the right button to cancel the call as a string of profanities escapes his mouth, but it is too late because a “Hello?” is heard over the speaker.

“Shit,” he says instead of a ‘hello’ when he presses the phone to his ear, and he hears her laughing the laugh he hasn’t heard in a long while from the other line as he gets up.

“Wow, what a greeting from someone I haven’t heard from for so long,” Yoona teases.

“I didn’t mean to. Really! I’m sorry, it’s quite a long story.”

“I have time.”

That statement leads to a new question. “Where are you?”

“As in now? Lining up at the cashier’s counter to pay for―oh wait a sec, it’s my turn.” Right then, he hears the sounds of scanner, rustling of plastic bags and the cashier stating the price, followed by coins clinking and more plastic bags rustling before she finally gets back to him. “Hello? You still there?”

“Hmmm barely.” Again, she fills his ear with her laugh. Her voice sounds light, more cheerful than he remembers it to be. It causes him to wonder if she is brighter too―happier. “Where are you exactly?”

“Well, exiting the supermarket,” she answers curtly.

“Is the supermarket in Korea or some other countries?”

“Does Lotte Mart ring a bell?”

“Oh?” he raises a brow. “You’re off work? Are you free now?”

“I’m rather expensive, Mr. Shim. But if you wish to see me I’m sure my assistant can arrange something. Wait, let me check my schedule first. Hm, does right now sound fine to you?”

Changmin chortles at her reply. “It’s an honour enough that you’re willing to see me, Miss Im.”

Yoona manages another laugh. “I’m hungry. Can we go get lunch?”

“Of course,” he’s beaming now. There’s a spring in his feet as he jumps from the bench and bounces on his toes after she gives him the details of where they should meet up. There’s spring blooming in his heart as he heads to the said restaurant that’s not very far from where he is, and when he finds her at a table beside the window waving delightedly, his face blossoms into a smile.

Once he approaches the table, she gives him a hug and he tries to hide his surprise so not to make her feel uncomfortable, especially after seeing each other for the first time is nearly a year. “So how are you?” she casually begins, as normal friends do when catching up.

He tells her about his work, the cases he has handled without disclosing too much detail. She does the same, recounting tales from the adventures she went on, of the food and cultures and people (for food is more important than the rest). An hour passes by in a blink of eye. Customers continue to come in and out of the restaurant, waiters going around taking orders and clearing tables, but they stay where they.

Later as Changmin sips his coffee, Yoona places an elbow on the table and rests her chin in her palm, staring at him. “So you want to tell me what’s going on?” she asks, though it seems by her knowing expression that she has already pretty much figured out.

“I suppose you’re not going to take a no for an answer.” It’s a statement.

“I suppose you’re not wrong,” she tries a smile for him. “I’ve got all the time in the world, Changmin.”

Meanwhile, his fades a little. Tearing his eyes away, he drags a sigh as he stares off at the world that continues to run without him, as if his existence or participation never mattered. “To tell you the truth, I have no idea what’s going on,” he confesses. “I guess that’s bad, because I’m supposed to know.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You see, Qian… she can’t have kids. Not ever. But that’s not what’s wrong. I mean, of course, it is, in a way. You know how much I want children of my own, right? But it’s not like I can blame her for that, because it’s not even her fault. The real issue here is, I don’t know, it’s how we don’t address the issue? We just don’t speak enough, or do one of those heart to heart things. We simply pretend that it’s all right, it doesn’t exist, although it’s right there looming between us like a disease. We let it build up, until now it reaches a point where it has become a wall that separates us.”

And it all starts coming out one by one. His frustrations, sadness and even anger that he never knew existed. Today he releases every feeling that he’s kept bottled up all to himself, while she gazes at him sympathetically and nods in encouragement for him to go on. He didn’t mean to disclose such personal details of his marriage especially to someone out of bounds, or anyone for that matter. Yoona is in no way related to his troubles and worries, but the ways she opens up for him puts him at ease, as if he can tell her just about anything.

“You two need to talk this over, everything. Just…sit down together and talk. That’s the only way,” she advises.

“I know we do,” he replies quietly.

Silence envelops them afterwards. Lunch hour has long since over by then, the restaurant has become empty without them realizing, and his forgotten coffee has gotten cold.

“I’m sorry to bore you with my rather miserable story.”

“No problem,” she shrugs. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

Smiling, he nods repeatedly, and feels his hand on the table being squeezed. It’s her, watching him with her pretty doe eyes that twinkle in encouragement. He stares at their clasped hands but says nothing about it. “You know,” he mumbles later, nodding at a particular direction. “That waiter guy over there has been glaring at us for a while now. He must be thinking, _why the hell aren’t these two leaving?_ It’s been hours.”

She chuckles before turning around to steal a glance at the target, and at the same time her hand leaves his. Probably realizing that the two are speaking about him, the said guy looks away and pretends to get distracted by something else. “Nah, he probably was just admiring my beauty.” And they share another laugh.

“So… any boyfriend?” he probes rather carefully.

“Nah.” She shakes her head. “Too busy for one. Besides, who would want to date someone who spends half her time with the dead?”

Changmin manages a laugh, though he doesn’t really find it as funny. When they have fallen into another silence, he is the first to stand up, slipping some notes under the napkin with a fresh grin plastered across his face. “We should go before they kick us out,” he says. She follows after him, picking up the plastic bags her groceries from the floor (probably another reason why the waiter kept glaring) with his help, and offers to split the bill. However he turns her down because “after all I was the one who invited you.”

Neither of them brought their cars, so he insists to walk her all the way home while carrying half of her groceries. “It’s not even that far,” she protests, feeling bad about it since he even paid for the lunch.

“All the more reason to accompany you,” comes as his reply, and she knows better than to argue more.

He does walk her all the way to her apartment, up to her door even. She invites him in for tea. He refuses the latter, so he steps in and studies her home while she puts the teabag into the kettle and gives it a stir. He snorts at that, remembering how stubborn she has always been.

Changmin has learned earlier that after resigning from the company where she previously worked for, she moved into this new home from her old one, partly because it’s her own house which she purchased under her name, but mostly because it’s nearer to the city compared to before. It is not a surprising information to him, knowing how much Yoona loves living in the city the most despite having been and spent so much time out. He also learned that she has since started working at Seoul Museum of History since last autumn, hence now she has very little reason to travel.

Their conversation now redirects back to their university days. From “Do you still keep in touch with that Jonghyun guy?” to “Did you hear about Yuri’s twins?”, the talk seems endless. As he sits on a stool by the kitchen counter speaking to her, Changmin feels like the clock has somehow rotated back to the past, and that they are not in their mid-thirties but still in early twenties with hot young blood pulsing through their veins.

Which is probably why when they run out of words and fall into that deep, comforting silence, it is almost natural for both of them to lean forward. Their lips meet, for a moment, it feels surreal and magical even, as though they have really been transported back in time. However, reality kicks in soon enough, and he pulls back instantly, eyes widening and chest pumping.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. His eyes are quivering, in shock, in fear, in regret. “That was a mistake.”

“Changmin,” Yoona calls out quietly, as if it will hurt him if her voice is any louder.

When she tries to approach him, he steps back, not letting the distance between them grow any smaller. So she stays where she is watching him, his trembling lips and conflicted expression. In all honesty, it pains her to see the way he goes back to guarding himself and not letting her go near.

“You see, Changmin,” her voice softens then. “There’s a reason why I decided to accept that job offer and move in here. You, of all people, know how much I love to travel, to explore and discover things you can’t find just by remaining in the same place, right?” she looks up and waits for his response. Though he’s still not meeting her eyes, he responds nevertheless with a curt nod. Relieved, she continues. “But soon I realized; the more places I go to, the more discoveries I make, the more things I learn, the only one thing I ever wanted was not any of those.”

It’s like he already knows what is coming out from her mouth, the way his brows furrow together. It’s as if he’s telling her, _no, stop, don’t do it_. But none of that matters to her now. She has lost her chance once, letting him slip through her fingers and never did anything about it, except running off to a whole different continent of the planet like she’s not bothered. She was, in fact she regretted everything, especially when she finally found his emails stacked in her inbox amidst of other unimportant ones. They almost went straight to the trash, until she saw the name and the date. She was too late back then, and she’s not going to repeat the same mistake.

“You felt it too, didn’t you? The spark. It’s always there, 10 years ago and today.”

“Yoona, listen,” he says sternly. She tries to grab a hold of his arm but he flinches away almost automatically. “This is not 10 years ago. This is today, and today I have Qian.”

“Changmin, I―”

“It was a mistake, Yoona. We should have never agreed to the ‘friends’ thing.”

And with that, he lurches to the door. A slam and he’s gone, leaving her alone in her apartment, in the space suddenly too big for her. She’s reminded of the way she felt so alone at a foreign country, with no friend by her side, staring at the computer screen in her room, at him, flashing his signature boyish grin that she loves so much, his arm linked with another girl’s, so beautiful in her white dress, that her heart breaks knowing it could’ve been her.

 

* * *

 

He returns home that evening to a dark and empty house. Without turning on a single light, he slips in and seats himself at one of the sofas, staring into the distance in daze.

It isn’t too long until the door opens again, and he watches Qian making her way in with bags of groceries in hand. Her hand fumbles with the switches, and once the light has filled up the space, she sees him there, staring at her blankly.

“Why did you sit there in the dark?” she questions, though he knows she’s not really expecting an answer. It’s more of a display of manner than her own curiosity. “Hey, does sweet and sour pork sound okay to you? I’m making it for tonight’s dinner.”

Changmin doesn’t answer, but when she has put on her apron and is busy marinating the meat in the batter, he approaches quietly from behind and wraps his arms around her. He can tell she’s surprised, but she says nothing at first except tilts her head back to fit into the crook of his neck while still concentrating on her cooking. “Something you can’t talk about?” she asks, knowing that there are instances when his cases are giving him a hard time, either physically or emotionally, but it isn’t right for him to discuss it with an outsider, even if the outsider is his own wife.

“No, actually I can,” he admits.

Hearing that, Qian washes her hands and turns around to face him. “Okay,” is all she says.

He tells her about Yoona, meeting her and what happened afterwards. She listens intently, nodding every now and then so he knows she’s paying attention, and when he’s done talking, she takes his hands and lifts them to her lips for a kiss.

“You’re an honest person, Changmin, and I’ve always loved you for that.”

He clenches and unclenches his jaw. Daring himself to look at her, he inhales and gives her hands a squeeze. “Let me make it right for you, Qian. Let’s make this marriage work.”

She smiles at him. “Okay.”

 _We’ll make it work_ , he thinks to himself. _Us_. Not Yoona.

 


	7. Pause, Rewind, Go [40's]

When it ends, the day is as beautiful as it should be. The sun is out and the flowers are in bloom. It’s not too cold or hot out—the weather absolutely perfect for a nice walk or a picnic at the park. He awakes on the day with a smile on his face, limbs still a bit heavy from sleep but alert nonetheless as the sun flittered through the curtains he’d left partially open on the night before. The day felt like a new beginning, though to what he still wasn’t sure of.

His conscience kicks in and hisses in his ear. _Who wakes up happy after another night of sleeping away from one’s wife?_ He could imagine a tiny version of his arrogant 30-year old self glaring at him on his shoulder. The version of himself from years before that had chosen _this path_ because he thought he was mature enough to know better.

He doesn’t, _of course_ , and he’s starting to think he’ll never be mature enough to actually know.

Changmin has taken to sleeping in a lonely single bed in the last few months, moving a few of his belongings from the master bedroom to the little cabinet they kept in the guestroom. It wasn’t that he’d been banished from his wife’s side. On the contrary he and Qian had been trying to work things out for close to a year and a half now and would try to end each day in the same bed. It wasn’t entirely his or her fault that his body would refuse to sleep next to her warm body. Changmin would lay awake for hours after they’d shut the lights before giving up and tiptoeing out of the room and collapsing elsewhere. He sleeps better alone now than he ever has before and it’d been too long since he’s wanted to this much.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Changmin sits up and squints at the sun streaming into his window. He has to review his associate’s research on a corporate case by eleven AM today and yet he doesn’t feel inclined to move out of bed. A quick glance at the watch he’d left on the nightstand tells him he has an hour and a half to get ready and drive to work but he feels no rush at all. As it goes, Changmin doesn’t feel as urgent to go to work as he used to. He tries not to think that it started around the same time his marriage began to lose its shiny luster.

(He tries even harder to think if it actually did shine the way he remembers thinking it did. Even that was neither his fault or hers.)

 

* * *

 

**@IAmImYoona followed by @CMSHIM218**

**@IAmImYoona** Landed in Netherlands for a conference on the apparent fiscal crisis looming over the global economy. Not entirely sure if I should be here.

**@IAmImYoona** I don’t know much about these kinds of things. I read but I’m not the radical politically opinionated person most of my peers paint me as.

**@IAmImYoona** But… I wouldn’t change a thing though. About my life.

 

* * *

 

“Would you come back early tonight?” Qian asks him after setting a plate of bacon and eggs in front of in on the kitchen table. She’s biting her lip the way she used to during their Law classes: eyes down, cheeks slightly flushed and with her bottom lip being chewed against the top row of her teeth. Changmin feels a wave of affection go through him when he sees her like this, looking younger than he actually feels. He’ll always think of her as beautiful inside and out, even with barely noticeable crows’ feet lining the edges of her eyes and the quiet tension in her tone.

His gaze on her softens and she catches him doing with a look that makes him want to simultaneously laugh and frown at the same time. He schools his features though, giving her a small smile just as Qian manages not to roll her eyes, and returns his grin with one of her own. She gets why he’s not so surprised by her sudden inquiry. _Of course she understands_. The smile fills her gorgeous face and in that moment Changmin recognizes her then as Victoria Song— _his best_ friend _from Law School_. She gets it because _they are friends first and always_. And it’s this thought that shutters him back to reality and to really listen to her next words.

“I think it’s time we talked.”

“Alright,” He nods, spearing his eggs into his mouth and looking at her thoughtfully. Changmin has expected as much, after all a talk _was_ overdue. _Months overdue even._ They shouldn’t have to be at this standstill any longer. He waits another beat before adding, “What’s for dinner?”

And _Vic_ —Qian laughs and shakes her head, the slight tension in the moment disappearing quickly as it had come. He’d always been good at diffusing an argument, it was no wonder it would be even easier when there was _none_ to go on. She rests her on her palm, her elbows hitting the wood of the table with a barely audible tap as she watches him eat his breakfast. It’s so easy really, to be domestic with her. His wife. _Victoria._

“Sweet and sour pork,” she answers, grinning as Changmin grunts appreciatively. “I’ll make sure to make extra helpings. I think we’ll need a few bowls after tonight.”

“Eating our problems away,” He quips and feels a little guilty for the flash of pain in her eyes as he stands up to grab his coat and bag. Neither of them had thought their vows meant for any of this but it’s happening all the same. The pain in her eyes that mirrors his tells him so.

Qian kisses him on the cheek, swift, sweet and chaste and steps back as he opens the door. Changmin pauses just to look back at her and opens his mouth to say—“I’ll be back by 5.”

It isn’t want he means to tell her but she gets that. His best friend knows him better than he knows himself.

 

 

* * *

 

**@IAmImYoona** I need 8k more words and I am done! #pushforvacation #NatGeo

**@IAmImYoona** I graduated with a degree on Anthropology and a minor in Journalism. It fits me, no?

 

* * *

 

He leans back on his seat and reaches for his phone, tapping on a few apps before settling on one that reminds him that it’ll be the 30th of May very, _very_ soon and Changmin feels his insides churn at the thought. The feeling isn’t entirely unpleasant but it’s still there despite his best intentions to dampen it over the years. It makes him feel full and starved at the same time, aggravated and calm—about 20 in a 42-year old’s body.

He sighs, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. Almost a decade and a half later and he still feels a little useless by the churn in his gut. But it doesn’t stop him from looking for ways to feel it over and over again.

He hasn’t spoken to her in years. She had politely refused his invitation and set off to travel the world to study and write. He only knows enough about her through news articles and Social Media—the latter of which forced to him by their common friends thinking it wouldn’t be awkward to follow your ex on Twitter because _you’re married Changmin, that ship has sailed and sunk._

Except it hasn’t and probably won’t ever. Because he keeps it docked in the dark recesses of his mind when he’s feeling particularly lonely and bereft. Because he can’t help himself when it comes to her and _everyone_ (Qian, their friends, himself) knows it.

Because Shim Changmin is a fucking masochist when it comes to Im Yoona and it’s so fucked up.

“You’re an idiot, Shim,” he chastises himself and tosses the phone to across the wood, sending it bouncing almost off the desk and to land very close to the edge. He stares at the gadget for a full minute, whether willing it to ring or not was hardly something he wanted to acknowledge, before standing up to go about his day. Qian wants him home by five for dinner and to talk and he was going to do just that because he loves her, _his_ frie _—wife_.

Changmin practically runs away when it pings, shutting the door behind him before he surrenders to impulse to check and succumb to that stomach-churning feeling again.

 

* * *

 

**@IAmImYoona** Home in a few weeks! Can’t wait!

**@IAmImYoona** There are faces that I miss. You know who you are!

**@IAmImYoona** Korea, wait for me!

 

* * *

 

His marriage dissolves over sweet and sour pork, special fried rice and five bottles of Soju.

Qian grins at him from her seat on one side of the couch, her feet up and under her as he nurses to his Soju bottle at the other end. Their talk tonight had been eye-opening and sweet, not bitter in the way the movies make it out to be. They spoke like adults, mature and reasonable—pointing out the pros and cons and listing resources and making plans. They talked like they used to—good friends figuring out what to do after a project ends. Qian has always been a go-getter and she knows what she wants out of life same as he. She has a plan already and a place to go. There was no need to divide assets or squabble for things that don’t mean as much as the value of their friendship.

As far as they are concerned, their separation is a win, not a loss. They know each other better than to feel used by each other’s flaws—her insecurity, his too idyllic ambitions, the lackluster of their emotions  to name a few—and lash out. There was no need for screaming or tears or broken plates littered on the kitchen floor.

Shim Changmin and Song Qian are friends first and always. That bit isn’t about to change just because their marriage has reached its end. They won’t let it change.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? To break up and feel oddly refreshed by it?” Qian speaks up after she finishes her own bottle, setting it down on the table. “I mean, it’s probably because we didn’t really argue. Which is odd, to be honest, knowing we’re lawyers and arguing is what we do.”

“We knew what we wanted and reached a settlement. It’s the cleanest divorce in the history of the World.”

They laugh together at that, feeling lighter than ever now that the silent tension from the morning and the past few months was gone.

“Maybe next time you decide to get married, you won’t be such a tightass.”

Changmin snorts, ignoring the lump in his throat as she throws him a look that tells him just how well she knows him more than a friend should. He settles for a snarky response, deflecting the underlying notion of her statement with an easy smirk. “I resent that. I am ‘set in my ways’. It has nothing to do with my ass or of it being tight.”

“Suuuure…” She tells him with a giggle, drawing the word out before popping a piece of pork smothered in sauce into her mouth. The sauce drips and stains her chin that he almost chokes on his Soju as a laugh bubbles from his throat. This time she doesn’t pretend to not roll her eyes and does, smacking him with a throw pillow, “Oh fuck off, Shim. It’s not like you’re a clean eater!”

“I, at least, don’t drip sauce all over myself, Vic.” Changmin points out, waving at two distinct drops on her green blouse. The nickname flows out of his mouth smooth and easy. _Like always_ and Qian doesn’t mind at all. “I’m not five like some people I know…”

“You act like one though!” Qian sing-songs and it’s his turn to roll his eyes skyward.

The dinner ends well with another kiss on his cheek and no pretense of sleeping in the same bed. She reminds him to pick up an application for Divorce on his way to the Justice Department the next day and to take out the trash before he goes to sleep. It’s still so domestic that he can’t help but to reach out and plant a kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks, Qian,” he tells her softly, his lips still on the skin of her forehead. He isn’t sure why he’s so grateful but he is and he knows she feels the same way. “I wouldn’t trade our years for the world, I want you to know that.”

Her eyes are soft when she looks up at him and when she nods, and says “I know” before wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tight he knows that he means every word and that this is goodbye. He sleeps the best that night, sinking into the sheets of their guest bedroom’s single bed.

They were the lucky ones to escape unscathed.

 

* * *

 

**@IAmImYoona** I AM HOME!!!

**@IAmImYoona** And just in time for the BIG 4-0! Who’s excited?! …NOT ME!

**@IAmImYoona** But I am happy to be home!

 

* * *

 

He’s been officially divorced for a month and half when he gets the tweet and seriously considers moving to Alaska. His body thrums in excitement even as the panic takes over and his stomach drops from under him while his heart twists in his chest. Changmin’s acknowledged the churning as a visceral emotion at this point that only manifests itself when the topic of Im Yoona comes up. And when his cellphone pings and he reads the message, he wonders if he’ll survive feeling this way tenfold in her presence.

The tweet is simple, clean-cut. But it feels awkward all the same.

**@IAmImYoona** Let’s go out for my birthday tonight! My treat! I think. Don’t order so much!  
@SeoJuHyun @LeeDongHae @SummerChoi @choikyuhyun @CMSHIM218

He feels like more of an afterthought when he reads the message over. Tagged only for the sake of tagging. He feels a smidge of jealousy run through him when he sees a friend of hers from work, Lee Donghae, reply immediately with an enthusiastic “Sure thing! See you soon, beautiful @IAmImYoona”.

Changmin knows he’s screwed when he realizes he’s tapped on the guy’s profile and has been glaring at his display picture for longer than he should. He bites back a pained laugh at how ridiculous it is for him to feel so… betrayed by her. He hasn’t seen her in years and neither of them has reached out to each other until now. It shouldn’t matter that he isn’t the first one she mentions anymore. _It’s been over for years. You’ve been married and divorced and she’s been off in God knows where doing whatever it was she does without a word since. It’s not worth feeling awful for. Not worth the jealousy or the time—_

He presses the back button and finds himself staring at her name next, her picture grinning up at him innocently. His body thrums again, the churning sensation picking up to a rhythm he’s not sure why he knows. It makes him shake, dizzy.

He doesn’t like it. (Even though he does.) He shouldn’t. (But he feels it anyway.)

His thumb pushes the Reply button resolutely and types “Can’t. Have work. Happy Birthday.”—short and clean-cut.

_Over, it’s been over since forever._

But he wavers at the last minute and discards the message in the next. Cops out after another and tosses his phone into the cabinet of his office desk.

Changmin won’t go. He won’t let himself.

 

* * *

 

**@CMSHIM218** @IAmImYoona I have work. Sorry.

**@IAmImYoona** @CMSHIM218 Oh. Okay.

**@IAmImYoona** @CMSHIM218 If you change your mind, we’ll be easy to find.

 

* * *

 

It’s past one in the morning when Changmin finds himself in front of an old bar a little ways from their old University. It’s the first place he thinks of when he thinks of Yoona. It’s close to any place that means something to them: An old bookshop where they browsed for copies of Shakespearean plays he still doesn’t get but knows she loves. A flower shop who sells the peonies he got her on Valentines’ once, even when they’re not in season. A café where they had fought and talked and made up at countless times before they actually ended. He even spots the neon lights of the motel they’d first had sex in when they were a couple a few blocks away, blinking “Vacancy” in large neon-green capital letters.

He blushes when the memory of that night comes to him but he pushes it away. He was there because it’s her birthday. He was there to see her _,_ even though he would rather she doesn’t see him. Because it’s her, _Im Yoona_ , and the visceral sensation in his body won’t let him sleep still unless he gives into it _one last time_.

The door swings open to the establishment and Changmin lets himself walk in. The club is actually a little empty tonight with only a few patrons sitting by the bar and a few couples dancing to a jazz song on the floor. He feels her close even before he spots her sitting by herself at a table, nursing one of those fruity drinks that had more juice than alcohol in it to be called a proper cocktail. She’s as beautiful as he remembers, maybe even more, with her skin still luminescent even under the dim Technicolor lights of the bar. Her long hair is tied back at her nape with a few tendrils free around her face, her pink lips plump and soft as she presses them together, deep in thought, and trails her fingers down the neck of her glass. He feels a shiver go through him even as his brow furrows, squinting at her from the door— _Alone? Really? The party ended that early?_

Changmin waits to see if anyone would come to sit by her. If Sooyoung or Seohyun or any of the people she invited in her tweet will suddenly show up, coming from the bathroom or out of thin air. He even waits to see if the guy Donghae is anywhere but Changmin knows he probably isn’t, because no one he recognizes is at the bar and Yoona is still alone.

“Alone on the Big 4-0, huh?” He mutters under his breath, his stance relaxing as he heaves a deep breath. He wishes he didn’t feel so fucking relieved to know she is alone because she shouldn’t be on her birthday. But he is, even as he considers leaving without a word.

But he won’t. Changmin sighs as he pulls out his phone to tap on the screen and then wait. One second passes then two, three and then— _ping!_

**@CMSHIM218** @IAmImYoona The Big 4-0’s an important one. Why are you alone?

Yoona’s head turns up and out to the door, her mouth dropping open as her eyes widens in surprise. Changmin can’t help the smile that blossoms on his face when she rubs at her eyes like a child. He doesn’t even notice the churning in his gut as he waves at her from the door and waits as she slips off her stool and moves towards him. Her eyes are still wide in disbelief as she inches closer and closer.

“Chang—” She doesn’t even get the syllables of his name out before she crushes herself into him, arms tight across his chest as her nose burrows against his throat.

His stomach lifts instead of dropping and churning turns into a flutter as he returns her embrace. His body thrums along the length of hers and their hearts beating in sync.

And though he knows it’s over— _that it’s been over since forever_ , he also knows that it’s not.

 

* * *

 

**@CMSHIM218** @IAmImYoona Happy Birthday.

 

* * *

 

They end up fucking against their motel room door the second they get through, limbs entwined so tight it was a wonder that they managed to slip pieces of clothing down enough for him to penetrate and for her to latch on to him with all her might. They’re older now and less limber than they used to be but somehow they manage it—rutting against the wood of their door with an ardor of hormonally-charged teenagers.

Her fingernails claw at him as he pounds into her, dragging the cloth of his shirt up and under her clenched fists while she moans and pitches her hips up to meet his thrusts. The rhythm they set is brutal, years of pain and silence bursting free with every punishing blow.

(Thrust) _How could you leave me?_ (Thrust) _How could you get married?_ (Thrust) _Why didn’t you call?_ (Thrust) _Why didn’t you reach out me?_ (Thrust) _I needed you but you wanted something more._ (Thrust) _I wanted you._ (Thrust) _I wasn’t ready._ (Thrust) _I was a fool._ (Thrust) _So was I._ (Thrust) _I miss you._ (Thrust) _I love you._

The dam breaks when their orgasms hit, tears coming unbidden as Changmin presses deep into one final thrust. They slump against each other, cheeks wet as their lips meet—tasting the regret of years lost in each other’s kiss.

“You’re married,” she whimpers a beat later, after Changmin stumbles them into bed and undresses them. She’s shaking with emotion when he moves to cover her with his body, fingers clasped around his biceps, her thighs cradling him close. His heart aches as she sobs, more fragile now than he’s ever seen her. “We shouldn’t have—You’re married.”

“I’m not,” He tells her, cupping her face in his hands. He pulls her in and kisses her soul deep, letting her taste the desire, longing and love in him. They break apart, their mouths a hair’s breadth of each other as he repeats, “I’m not married. Not anymore.”

A flash of light from a passing car hits their window, illuminating the length of their bodies from either end quickly before sinking them back into the dark. The neon-green sign is still on and it paints their room in an odd hue as they continue to drink each other in. This time, when he sinks himself inside of her, it is slow and soft. Cathartic.

It’s home.


	8. Full Circle [Late 40's]

“Slow down, please!” Yoona pleads desperately, stepping on the hem of her white dress, “Why do you always have to walk so fast?”

He inwardly rolls his eyes and offers his hand, chuckling as she begrudgingly takes it. “I should be asking why you don’t walk faster. Not the other way around, Yoona.”

“It’s hard to walk around in a dress this long, okay?” She sighs, “You don’t have that kind of problem in suits, _do you_?”

“Didn’t I tell you that you didn’t need to put on that damned dre –“

Yoona shushes him, pressing her finger to his lips, “We’ve been over this last night and this morning and less than an hour ago. I’m not going to have the same argument with you again, for the fourth time.”

Changmin doesn’t enjoy being told what to do but he lets this one slide. After all, it isn’t every day that he’ll get to marry the woman he’s spend half his life loving and the other half regretting. He thinks a part of him has always known it’s going to be Yoona. He’s married once before; settled down, build a home and now he’s about to do it all over again with her. The only difference is that Changmin can picture it all, mostly because he’s spent nights sleeping with ‘what if’s under his pillow.

“Now that we’re actually here,” Yoona starts, still holding up the skirt of her dress, “It actually feels so… pointless.”

They’re standing at the bottom of the steps, hands and fingers intertwined. Changmin’s not sure whose hand is clammy at this point but he knows that after what she’s said, he’s about to break into a full blown sweat.

“Don’t you want to do this anymore?” He gulps, trying to hide his uneasiness, “Get married?”

She swivels around to face him, her lips parted in shock at the question before curving into a small smile. “Do you even have to ask? I’ve always wanted to be the girl at the end of the aisle on your big day.”

Relieved, he asks, “Then why did you just say that it’s pointless?”

“ _Because it is_ ,” Yoona shrugs, “We’ve known each other for a lifetime – I know you better than anyone else, you know me better than anyone else. We have Jongmin – for God’s sake, we have actually have a baby together. I bore a child in my womb and carried it for nine months! I let you rub my feet and shower me with sex! I’ll never love anyone like I love you – ever…”

“But?”

“No buts,” she corrects without missing a beat and squeezes his hand in reassurance, “I just don’t know why we need a piece of paper and a ring to confirm that we’re destined to be together.”

“Destined?” He quirks a brow, “You actually believe in all that?”

“It will probably sound stupid to you but…” Yoona glances at him from the corner of her eyes then rests firmly on the pavement beneath her cream colored heels, “When we were kids, I used to think that the gangly boy I met in the Supermart was ‘The One’ – like it proved something that you kept on finding those lollipops I hid around the playground.” She waves it off and begins to sputter, “I know, I know, really silly –“

“That was you?”

He’s unexpectedly not surprised by this. Of course, he didn’t know it was her but how could it be anybody else? Then he laughs – loud and carefree and the most joyous of laughs. Changmin can’t say he’ll ever be a believer in fate or destiny because that’s just him a skeptic and an unbeliever but if he’s ever supposedly tied down to anyone for life, he hopes it’s her. He always did.

She nods. “Now you’re going to make fun of me.”

“Why would I? I really liked those lollipops, even if they _did_ give me cavities.” Changmin jokes, not being to hold in his smile at the shocked look on her face that he chooses not tease her like she’d anticipated, “So… what? Did you want to walk around, telling people that we’re not married but we’re living one address and raising a child together?”

“I don’t know. Not exactly that but, kinda?” Her brows furrow and she gives him a wry, helpless look, “This is probably the most casual wedding ceremony in history but it just still feels _so overdone_ , like… like we’re trying to prove something to everyone else in there.”

And by _in there_ , Yoona means behind that door and inside the church. They’re close friends and families and somehow Changmin can’t help but think that Yoona’s right, maybe they’re doing this for all the wrong reasons. He can remember the proposal like it was yesterday but he can’t remember who set up the reception or decided on the location. If he was being honest, he doesn’t remember much of the past couple of months before this very day. It’s gone by in an exhausting blur of preparations alongside celebrations.

“I mean, look at me,” she lets out an exasperated laugh and does a spin around, “This dress – it’s not me! I feel so done up and I smell like cookie dough and my hair –“

“ _Your hair_ ,” he interrupts, pulling her in by the waist so he could brush that dangling curl out of her face, “Your hair looks fine, you smell good enough to eat and it’s nice to see you dressed up for me just this once.”

Yoona flushes a little when he leans even closer to nuzzle her throat, looking away and out to their surroundings. “I – people are _staring_ , Changmin –“

“I don’t care if people start whipping out their phones and take videos,” He laughs, ruffling up her hair, “That’s what people do when a bride and a groom stands bickering outside the church in the cold one minute and then gets up close and personal the next.”

She lets out an annoyed huff and pushes at his chest, stepping away enough (but not too far from his reach) to pat her dress down. Her hand comes up to check on her hair and she frowns, muttering, “Great, now I’m going to have to walk in there with messy hair.”

“I thought you said this is pointless anyway?” Changmin asks, smirking.

“Yeah, well,” Yoona says haughtily, “Doesn’t mean I want to get killed by Qian—who was so sweet to book me that frou-frou hair appointment and all—I mean, the girl probably knows Karate!”

“The Chinese Martial Arts is called Kung-fu but that’s not the point!”

“Yes, it is! And if not, I bet she’ll sic Zhoumi at me!”

Changmin takes a breath in exasperation and pulls away completely, hands at his sides. He fidgets on his feet, anxious in a way he hasn’t felt in a very, very long time. “So what do you want to do then?”

She glances away at the sudden tired tone of his voice, chewing on her bottom lip before finally asking back, “What do _you_ want to do?”

The love of her life shrugs, ducking his head shyly. “Is it cliché to say ‘whatever makes you happy’?”

Yoona smiles so warmly at his response that for a second, Changmin forgets that it’s the middle of winter. She seems to do that to him, makes him forget everything else around him and just feel happy that she’s there in the moment with him. And he hopes that it will be the same for Jongmin, that his mother will be his source happiness even at his worst times. What he’s said is cliché but is not a lie. Yoona has made him as happy as any man can ever be and he can only hope to make up for the lost times by doing the same.

“Yes,” Yoona admits with a bit of amusement, “Is it cliché to say that I’m happy just to be with you?”

It takes a minute for him to reply and she giggles, “I love you with or without the marriage license. You do know that right?”

“I think so,” She says cheekily, “But since we’re here, I guess one of those wouldn’t hurt and Jongmin wouldn’t have to worry about being asked about his parents when he gets to school.”

“Why is it so hard to marry you?” Changmin asks and picks her up, chuckling at her protests as she yelps and kicks around in his arm, “Just remember that you did this to yourself.”

“Me?!” She yells, attempting to smack him on the arm and failing miserably, “You’re carrying the bride – me, into the church and you say I did this to myself! Maybe I should ask Qian to sic Zhoume on you! God, I swear when Jongmin’s old enough, I’ll let him know that his poor mother sacrificed herself to marry a lunatic like you –“

Changmin tightens his hold on her as he bursts through the door and says loud enough for all to hear, “And I’ll let him know that his mother loves a lunatic like me. Your argument is overruled, wifey. Let’s get married.” 

 


	9. Second Chances [After]

“Mom really does make the weirdest requests, doesn’t she?”

He laughs despite himself, rubbing the sole of one his shoes into the dirt as he swings lightly to and fro. It’s a beautiful day out at the park where it all began. The sun is out and high in the sky; its rays just warm enough to energize and not scald like it has in the past weeks before today. It should be a little odd for a midsummer day to be so perfectly temperate but he’s always known that good things always happen _here_ when one needs it to be and he isn’t wrong now as he hadn’t been when he was eight.

Changmin watches as his son drops a trowel into one of the baskets they’d brought and heaves another basket closer. Jongmin, now in college, picks up one of the ready daisies (“It’s a _Leucanthemum vulgare_ , also known as a Ox-eye daisy. A perennial flowering plant common in Europe and temperate regions in Asia. See, I know these things, Mom.”) he’d bought and bagged an hour ago. He brushes the petals softly after tearing the bag off; placing the flower into one of many holes he’s dug into the dirt. He sprinkles a helping of ashes into the same hole, then a sprinkling of dirt before continuing on with the others in the basket.

Jongmin is smiling as he fills every hole the patch of land is filled with full-bloomed daisies, patting the dirt and ashes down before standing up and reaching for the water spray Changmin holds for him to douse the flowers the way his mother taught him.

“ _Flowers need baths too, you know_ ,” Changmin recites affectionately, mimicking Yoona’s inflection to a saying of hers to a T.

Jongmin snorts a laugh as he finishes with the water spray, adding to statement with an impression of his own, “ _Just like Mama and Papa who stinks. Just like Little Jongmin with his quirky little winks._ ”

He shakes the can a bit to make sure every drop of water is out before dropping back to sit next to Changmin by the swings. Father and son watch as the wind picks up and flutters the flowers into life.

“It’s a really weird request, Dad.” Jongmin says a beat later, turning his head to face his father and watches as Changmin discreetly rubs at his eyes. “Cremation is one thing. But to be buried into the dirt along with daisies at a children’s park is another.”

“We fell in love here.” Changmin reminds him simply, earning a scoff and weak but affectionate roll of his son’s eyes. “It’s appropriate.”

“Still weird.” Jongmin mutters and he doesn’t feel at all inclined to disagree.

Yoona’s passing was a surprise at best, swift and clean and quiet. And while Changmin chooses not to remember much from that day, he does remember kissing her lips as she stretched out beside him on their bed, whispering his love for her and listening to her give hers back. He remembers her eyes closing slowly shut for an afternoon nap, smiling all the way into her dreams. They were happy, in love, _together_.

A month after bumping her head against a low ceiling during a visit to cover a story on an orphanage in Thailand, she’d died in her sleep beside him. Just as their 20th Spring season as man and wife ended.

Yoona had just turned 73.

Changmin sniffs a little as Jongmin begins to pack up. She’d asked for a cremation in her will, wishing to be buried into the earth with her favorite flower at her favorite place with only her favorite men to say goodbye on a beautiful summer day. As strange as the request was, both he and his son didn’t question it. They spent days planning for the perfect moment to say farewell, organizing a picnic and rearranging schedules. Jongin readily skipped his classes when he’d woken him this morning, ready in under an hour with a sad sort of smile reminiscent of his mother’s.

Jongmin’s voice brings him back. “All set. Ready to go, Dad?”

Changmin shakes his head, digging his shoe into the sand once more. “No, I think I’ll stay awhile.” He says, looking back up to watch the daisies in front of them. He can feel his son nod in understanding without seeing him and smiles, “But you should go ahead. I don’t want you skipping any more classes than absolutely necessary.”

“I don’t know… failing a class might send the love of my life my way.” Jongmin shrugs, hefting the bag of tools and food containers over his shoulder.

This time it’s Changmin who snorts, stifling the boisterous chuckle bubbling in his chest into a short one as he shakes his head in mock-dismay. “Your mother really shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s a good story.”

Changmin’s tone softens. “Yeah, it is.”

His son doesn’t say any more after that and instead squeezes his shoulder affectionately before turning away. Leaving him be to spend the day to his preference in peace.

Changmin stays silent for what seems a lifetime on the swing, their memories ( _from before, after, together, apart, together again_ ) running on loop in his mind’s eye. He isn’t as sad as people thought he is, but he is melancholy. In a soft, grateful way that only few understood.

They were happy, _in love_ and together until they aren’t for the mean time. Because he knows that _this_ isn’t the end. _It’s a pause_.

It’s only when the sun moves to the east that he stands up, pushing a hand into his pants’ pocket. He pulls out a lollipop wrapped in a too-girly pink wrapper and looks up to the slowly similarly pinking sky.

He sticks the candy into the sand, mouthing the words “I love you”. Then he turns and just barely catches the patch of daisies flutter again with the wind. A pause later and he can almost hear her giggling in his ear.

“ _Finders, keepers. Losers, weepers.”_

Changmin grins. 

 

 

#  **_FIN_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I participated or wrote anything for my #1 OTP. So I'm happy our maknae Jasmine (jumons) love them as much as I do to accept this fic as a gift. And as leader of the #AngstCircle, I hope you enjoyed this story. Let us know what you think about this story! Toodles!
> 
>  **Other stories by #AngstCircle:**   
>  The Study of Love (found here, LJ & AFF)   
> The Venn Diagram (found only in LJ & AFF)


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